


Taking Prisoners

by cpt_radiation



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Blood, Drug Use, M/M, Oral Sex, PTSD, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cpt_radiation/pseuds/cpt_radiation
Summary: Stan and Rick meet at a time when they are both on the run from their history, so why not run together for a while? But when a certain triangular shadow from Rick's past emerges, he doesn't know if he can run far enough, or if Stan can follow.





	1. Someone to Get in Trouble With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My submission for the 2016 Stanchez bang!

Flash, a popular club in downtown Dallas, was booming with music and bursting with party-goers. Just like any other night. Many of the patrons were regulars, locals to the area looking to drown out their normal lives with alcohol and loud music. However, tonight was a special occasion because an up-and-coming band that was rapidly growing in popularity had been hired to play live. Along with the band, but not associated with them, came Stan. Live bands were an excellent distraction to get some free stuff from unsuspecting suckers. The music was loud and chaotic, which Stan disliked, but he tolerated it for the cash that it brought into the club.

He leaned against the bar, sipping a cheap beer and watched as the crowd swarmed on the dancefloor. Putting the empty bottle on the bar, Stan wormed his way through the mass of bodies as if he were moving towards the bathroom. As he pressed against the other bar patrons, he slid his hands into pockets, purses, and bags to grab a few things here and there. By the time he reached the restroom, at least fifty dollars nestled comfortably in the pocket of his red sweatshirt. He reached for the bathroom door handle, only to find it locked. So instead, he leaned back against the wall and let his eyes stray up to where the band was positioned. 

They looked strange to say the least. Stan wasn’t sure if this was the norm for punk bands or if these guys were just trying really hard to stand out, but two of the musicians didn’t even seem human. The drummer looked like a scruffy cat that stood on two legs and the singer had feathers that cascaded down his head into what looked like a cape flowing out behind him. The lead guitarist, however, was just a scrawny dude with dusty blue hair and a really low cut tank top. Stan wondered what purpose the shirt even served at that point. The beanpole playing seemed to notice Stan eyeballing him and in response, turned up one corner of his mouth in a devilish smile. Stan felt heat rise to his face, but he wasn’t sure why. The previous occupant of the bathroom exited, allowing Stan to slip inside.

A little while later, the excitement of the band was beginning to die down and the pit of Stan’s stomach was beginning to feel comfortably warm. He stood a few feet away from the bar, nursing another cheap beer (it was the most he was willing to spend on alcohol). As the band finished their set, Stan realized just how much of the noise in the club was them shrieking about the establishment or something else dumb.

“We are the Flesh Curtains, goodnight everybody!” The guitarist shouted into the microphone. The crowd replied with scattered applause and a few loud screams of excitement from girls who were way too drunk. Stan accidentally made eye contact with the skinny punk again; the guitarist winked at him and smiled flirtatiously. Flustered, Stan turned around to head towards the door…only to crash right into another bar patron. A big one. The man grimaced angrily at him, staring down at Stan’s broken bottle on the floor and the beer splattered across his shoes.

“Watch it dip-ass!” the man shoved Stan.

“Hey, it was an accident, my bad.” Stan replied.

“You’re right. It IS your bad.” The man wound his fist up to strike Stan but missed entirely as Stan deftly dodged out of the way. Retaliating, Stan swung his fist in a hard right hook into his assailant’s cheek bone.

“BAR FIGHT!” Screamed someone in the crowd before all hell broke loose. Men swung fists, stools, and bottles at each other while girls either grouped together and screamed or joined the fray. Stan took a beefy fist to the side of his face when he accidentally got distracted watching two girls cat fighting.

The guitarist howled with laughter.

Stan then grabbed the man’s left leg, hoisting it up, then swept his right leg out from under him. The man fell hard on the ground and didn’t make a move to get up at first. Then, snarling, he began to push himself back on to his feet. Abruptly, the bouncers intervened. One grabbed Stan by the shoulder and the other picked the man up off the floor. One more bouncer screamed into the microphone to get the crowd to settle down or they were all getting kicked out.

The guitarist let out one last chuckle before scooping up his instrument case and strolling leisurely off stage with his band.

Once the mass of people had returned to relative normalcy, the two bouncers holding Stan and the stranger began roughly herding them towards the door. The man, now sweaty and bruised, wandered off while Stan stood near the door staring into the night, blinking. Everything had happened so quickly and now he didn’t really have a plan for what to do with the rest of his night.

“That was hilarious, man,” came a voice from a few feet away. Stan jumped, startled that he had not seen the person who was leaning comfortably against the brick exterior of the club. Upon closer inspection, it was the guitarist for the band that had been playing. Wild blue hair and all.

“What was?” Stan replied gruffly.

“That fight! I should thank you too, I won twenty bucks off my drummer for betting on you.”

“Uh, thanks?” Stan wasn’t sure what it was about this guy that made him nervous. And sweaty.

The man laughed and pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on. “Name’s Rick Sanchez.Y-You seem pretty rad and the night is still young. Wanna bar-hop with me?” He smiled lopsidedly, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his ripped skinny jeans.

“Sure?” replied Stan, not one to turn down a good time. “I’m Stanley.”

“Alright, Lee! Follow me, my man, we’ve got places to be!” Rick quickly pulled Stan off of the sidewalk and into the night, his wiry frame belying an unexpected amount of strength. With a lanky arm draped across his shoulder, Stan abruptly realized that Rick stood quite a bit taller than Stan. Together, they headed off into the night in search of a new party.

 

A few days after meeting his strange new acquaintance, Stan found himself in another seedy bar, hustling some suckers. He leaned over a billiards table, examining the cue ball and its potential targets. A curvy brunette stood behind him, admiring his broad shoulders and thick arms.

Stan sunk the final ball into a pocket, collected his winnings and turned towards the girl who was smiling with adoration.

“Would you like to head back to my place?” The brunette wrapped her arms around Stan. “I’ve got this great bottle of bourbon I’ve been dying to break open.”

Stan smiled at her, nodding, then led her out to his car. At her apartment, the two chatted, flirted, and drank. After quite a few drinks, the girl took Stan’s hand and brought him into the bedroom.  

 

Stan peeled open his eyes to blinding sunlight pouring in from the un-curtained windows. He rubbed his face and tried to remember where he was. He looked around to see his clothes scattered around the room and a feminine shoulder poking out of the duvet next to him. 

_ Oh. Right. _

He’d gone home with some girl and gotten lucky. Even more lucky that she wasn’t awake. This would save him an awkward conversation if he could manage to sneak out without disturbing her. Gingerly, he rolled out of the bed and scurried around the room collecting his clothes. He pulled on his underwear, jeans, and t-shirt before softly opening the door and sliding out. Briefly, he leaned against the door, relieved. As much as he enjoyed sleeping with random girls he picked up, he could do without the morning-after interactions.

He patted his pockets to assure himself that he had all of his belongings and then set off down the narrow hallway. When he had almost reached the staircase, Stan heard a door click open behind him. Startled, he turned, expecting to see the girl he was fleeing from. Instead, he was greeted by the wild blue hair of his guitarist friend, Rick. They stood in silence for a moment, staring each other down. Rick broke the silence with a snort of laughter. Stan soon joined in at the absurdity of the situation.

“Y-y-you want to go get some breakfast?” Rick asked once he and Stan had calmed down.

“Sure thing. I’ll drive if you buy,” Stan replied.

“Ha! You’re assuming I was going to pay at all.”

Stan just smiled and continued down the stairs with Rick in tow.

At a greasy little diner on the side of the highway, Stan and Rick settled into vinyl booth seats. They both sat in relative silence for a while before Rick spoke up.

“So w-what brings you to the wonderful state of Texas, Lee?” Rick took a sip of his coffee. He glared down at it before pulling a flask out of his pocket and pouring some mystery alcohol into the coffee. He took another sip and then smiled softly, glancing back at Stan.

“Oh you know-” he cleared his throat, “-just wandering really. Looking for riches and adventure.”

Rick snorted. “W-well you sure as hell won’t find it in Texas.”

“What about you, smart ass? What’s your story?”

“Traveling with the band! Living the dream.” Rick sat back in the booth, slinging both of his long arms over the back. The waitress delivered their breakfast, casting a sidelong glance at the strange pair.

Stan continued his attempt at questioning Rick. “Where ya from?” He asked, not really expecting an honest answer. 

“Fuck man, I-I’ve been gone so long I don’t think I qualify as being from anywhere.” Rick’s gaze shifted to the window beside their table while Stan shoveled pancakes into his mouth. After staring for a few seconds, he seemed to remember where he was and began to eat as well.

“So does your band do shows just in Texas, or all over?” Stan put his fork down on his empty plate.

“I-I wouldn’t call it a tour or anything but we’ve got a handful of gigs across the states,” Rick replied with half a mouthful of pancakes.

Stan nodded approvingly.

“But you know…M-my bandmates were just gonna meet me i-in Arizona…and I could use a ride if you wanted to come with.”

Stan felt heat rise to the tips of his ears. “Sure. I’ve got nowhere to be,” he replied.

The corner of Rick’s mouth turned up in that devilish smile of his. Stan wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“Great! I’ve gotta pick something up first, but then we can get going! This’ll be the adventure you were looking for Lee, just wait!”

Rick and Stan darted out of the diner, ignoring the angry calls of the staff, out to the red Stanleymobile.  _ Shit. What have I gotten myself into,  _ Stan wondered to himself. 

 

Rick made Stan drive by a community pool where he had stored a large duffel bag jammed in a rentable locker. After retrieving the duffel bag, Stan and Rick set off on the long drive to Phoenix, Arizona. As the sun began to climb, so did the temperature. The interior of the car was only barely tolerable, even with the windows down.

“Sorry about this,” Stan began, “the air conditioner hasn’t been working very well lately.” As if to prove his point, what little air had been coming from the vents suddenly sputtered to a halt. Stan sighed.

“It’s all good. I’ll take a look at it when we stop,” Rick replied. Stan seemed skeptical that this guitar-playing punk would manage to fix a car but it wouldn’t hurt to let him try. Very quickly, Rick seemed to grow bored and began pulling bits of scrap metal out of his duffel bag and tinkering with them. His slender fingers worked deftly, combining and disassembling different parts until he got bored of that too and fell asleep.

Stan took the opportunity to sneak a look at his strange companion. He had thick eyebrows that looked like they may have once been a unibrow and an angular jaw. His sleeping face looked oddly…peaceful. He looked relaxed in a way that Stan didn’t think was possible. He returned his attention to the road and put on some soft music to keep himself occupied.

As the sun began to set, Stan’s rumbling stomach became too much to ignore. Rick had been drifting in and out of sleep for the past several hours, intermittently tinkering with his scrap metal before drifting back off to sleep. When Stan saw the exit marker for a small town, he pulled off and parked in front of a diner. Rick jostled awake at the change in motion, looking confused.

“Where we at?” He mumbled.

“Couple hours away from Albuquerque, New Mexico. I gotta get something to eat. Plus, my ass hurts,” Stan replied. Rick laughed a little bit then opened the car door and stepped outside.

“Ugh I think both of my legs are asleep,” Rick groaned.

“At least you’ve been sleeping this whole time. I’ve been behind the wheel!”

“Let’s get some food and then something to drink so you’ll quit whining.”

Stan rolled his eyes and smiled before heading into the diner. The two men ate in relative silence; Rick seemed fairly groggy and disoriented still. The food was okay but Stan was just happy to have something to eat at all.

“You boys need anything?” the waitress asked, pausing at their table.

“Y-you know any good bars around here? We’re from out of town,” Rick asked.

“Sure. Blue Desert down the street is pretty popular,” she replied.

“Great. We’ll just take a check then.”

“Are we going to pay here?” Stan whispered once the waitress had left.

“I figured we might as well. Don’t need the cops on our tail if we’re going to stay the night,” Rick whispered back. When the check arrived, Rick slid a few bills into it and motioned for Stan to get up. Rick stood outside the diner, scanning the street for the typical neon signs of a bar. When he spotted it, he grabbed Stan’s arm and dragged him towards it.

Once inside, the two men settled at the bar and Rick immediately ordered two scotch whiskeys for them.

“Wow, I feel so spoiled,” Stan said. “First dinner and now drinks? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to get in my pants.”

“Psh, no way,” Rick scoffed. “Y-you drove the whole way here so I-I figured I may as well pay you back somehow.”

Stan wasn’t sure if it was just the dim light in the bar but it almost looked like the tips of Rick’s ears were turning red.

“Ha, I’m just messing with you. And I drove because I don’t trust you with my car.”

“That’s fair,” Rick said with a laugh. “Okay I am not nearly drunk enough right now. H-how about we kick things up a notch?”

Stan smiled and nodded while Rick ordered four shots of tequila. He hammered his two back before Stan could even finish one. Rick smirked at him and Stan swallowed the other one in hopes of getting Rick to wipe the look off his face. He didn’t. Instead, he leaned closer to Stan.

“Do you dance, Stan?” Rick raised an eyebrow.

“Definitely not,” Stan replied, leaning back a little bit.

Rick shrugged his shoulders and ordered more drinks.

After quite a few drinks, Stan and Rick were slouched in a booth, Rick’s arm draped over Stan.

“W-w-w-what the hell were you thinking?” Rick cackled. “The Stan-vac? Th-that’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, I was desperate! I didn’t have a whole lot of options.”

“W-well now you’re banned from Pennsylvania.”

“It’s a garbage state anyway!” Stan and Rick laughed. Stan’s gaze travelled across the bar to see several men playing a card game of some kind. It piqued Stan’s interest. Rick followed his gaze to the game and smiled evilly. They were on the same page.

They strolled over to the table where a bar employee in a dress shirt and tie was supervising a game of Texas Five Card. Rick and Stan sat down and each put seventy dollars on the table. At first, they did all right, each winning a hand here or there and only making a few dollars. After they had been playing for about twenty minutes, their luck changed. The wins came more often and for increasingly high pots. The man sitting across from Stan seemed to grow more and more angry at this development. When Stan pulled in yet another pot, he growled angrily and slammed his fist on the table.

“ALL RIGHT. I’ve had it. You two are cheating! You’ve got cards in your sleeve-” he pointed at Stan, “-and you’ve been counting cards since you got here!” He shouted, pointing at Rick. 

“I am hurt- HURT- that you would accuse us of cheating. If you’re going to be a sore loser, then why play at all?” Stan retorted.

“I’LL SHOW YOU HURT,” he screamed, rising from the table and drawing a knife.

“Whoops! Time to go, Lee!” Rick jumped from his seat, scooped every dollar he could into his arms, and darted out the door with Stan in tow.

Stan jumped into the driver’s seat while Rick jammed cash in his pockets to keep it from flying away. The angry man burst through the doors of the bar while Rick screamed at Stan to start the car.

When the engine finally roared to life, Stan slammed on the gas pedal and just drove. They drove onto the highway and straight out of town in their mild panic. Once they had been driving for almost ten minutes Rick let out a loud whoop of excitement. The sudden noise made Stan jump but he laughed at his companion.

“Th-that was awesome! It’s been awhile since I’ve made this much cash gambling without getting my shit kicked in,” Rick said excitedly.

“I know! Were you actually counting cards though?”

“’Course I was. W-w-were you storing cards in your sleeves?”

“Heh, never let me deal in poker.” Stan smiled and looked over at Rick who was gleefully counting the cash he had grabbed. Then, as if to remind Rick of his former promise, the air conditioner sputtered and coughed.

Rick looked at the vents appraisingly. “Hey, pull over when you get the chance. I’ll take a look at your car.”

As luck would have it, Stan quickly approached a rest stop. He pulled off and parked the car, popping the hood. Rick slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and slid around the car. He poked around in the engine, occasionally grabbing a tool and tinkering with different parts. Eventually, he stood back and looked approvingly at his handiwork. He smiled to himself and closed the hood. Rick slid his duffel bag back into the passenger seat, but instead of sitting down again, he draped himself over the hood of the car. He lay still for a few moments before motioning to Stan to come join him. Stan complied.

They lay together in silence, Rick staring somewhat wistfully at the stars, but Stan was thinking about Rick. He seemed like such a straight-forward guy at first, a punk-rocker alcoholic. But after watching him effortlessly counting cards and fixing the car, Stan began to suspect that there was something more going on below the surface.

“Um. Lee?” Rick interrupted Stan’s train of thought. With a start, Stan realized that he had been staring at Rick and spacing out.

“Oh! Uh, sorry. I just zoned out there,” Stan clarified, blushing a little bit. He suddenly became very aware of just how close they were laying. This made his face even more red.

“No worries,” Rick said. “But you know, I’m really glad I-I met you. This car ride would have been fucking awful by myself. It’s nice to have someone to get in trouble with.”

“Heh, you’re right,” Stan replied softly, sitting up. Rick followed suit. “I think I’m gonna get some sleep. We’ve got quite a way to Phoenix still.”

“We do. I’m gonna go pee,” Rick said, motioning towards the rest stop bathroom with a slight head nod. Then, quickly, he leaned in and gently kissed Stan’s square jaw before darting off. Stan stared wide eyed after him, his fingers drifting up to his face. 

By the time Rick returned to the car, Stan was asleep in the seat.


	2. Road Trip Restless

The next day, Rick seemed to grow more restless the longer they were in the car. He had already burned himself out on tinkering with his metal chunks and was now talking (to himself mostly) to fill the space. Rick had adjusted the side view mirror and was leaning into it, examining his neck.

“I sh-should start wearing a necklace,” Rick said. Then he paused, as if waiting for some kind of confirmation from Stan. “Like a black leather choker. I think it’d work really well with this style I have going on.” He motioned down to his low cut tank top and ripped black jeans.

Stan glanced over at Rick, who was still enthralled with his reflection. “Sure, it could work. But what I’ve really been meaning to ask you is what the deal with that shirt is.”

“Wh-what about it?”

“Why?” Stan asked simply. “When it’s that low cut, why even wear a shirt anymore?”

“To show off my gorgeous body, of course,” Rick replied, winking. “Plus, it’s about a billion degrees in this desert and this is the closest I can get to being naked on my top half.”

Stan shrugged.  _ I suppose the heat is a valid excuse for the shirt. Maybe it's part of punk-rock fashion? Not like I know anything about style. _

Stan looked up at the highway signs, trying desperately to ignore Rick playing with his hair in the mirror. Another hour to Albuquerque. Another hour of uncomfortably wondering why Rick invaded his thoughts so much. _I know_ _I’M not gay. But…is Rick? He kissed me last night but then didn’t acknowledge that anything had happened. Rick was pretty drunk so maybe he’d just gotten caught up in alcohol and adrenaline. Yeah, that’s it_ , Stan decided. He gave a little head nod to himself and looked over to find Rick, with his feet up on the dash, tinkering on some item again.

“How’d you count those cards so well last night?” Stan blurted.

“Hm?” Rick didn’t look up. “Oh, I-I don’t know, I’ve always been pretty good at stuff. Taught myself to play guitar you know.”

“No kidding? Reminds me of my brother.” A twinge of sadness crossed Stan’s face when he mentioned his brother. Rick noticed.

“Yeah? That’s pretty cool.” He didn’t want to press any further. Stan would tell him what he wanted to. Rick knew that feeling all too well. Stan dropped the subject and asked Rick about his guitar, how old he was, what he learned to play, et cetera.

Rick remembered back to when he was seventeen, living in the very state they were driving through, about ready to give up. His home life was…not the best. Despite being plenty smart, Rick didn’t do well in school. He detested being told what to do and being spoken down to. Most of the time, his teachers just filled him with contempt; in defiance of them, he would never really do any of the assigned work. As a direct result, Rick would often come home to harsh words and blows from his parents. They screamed how he’d never be worth anything. He tried to deal but he knew his patience would only hold out for so long. In the meantime, Rick had taught himself basic chords on an old acoustic guitar he’d found at a yard sale. Rick was determined to use that guitar to help him leave his shitty family. At the very least, it made a good blunt weapon.

One day, Rick left. He took whatever cash he could find in the house, his guitar, and abandoned his old life. They didn’t matter anymore and all he had to do was not think about it.

After having very briefly answered Stan’s questions, Rick found himself staring off into space as he recalled his teenage years, something he had very deliberately avoided for a long time. Stan found the silence a little comforting after the mention of his brother. Rick was quiet the rest of the way to Albuquerque.

When they began to see signs for the exit, Rick looked up from his stupor, “Stop here. We’ll grab some food.” Stan couldn’t complain. After they ate some pretty second rate fast food, Rick told Stan to fill the car with gas and stock up on a few drinks and supplies. He handed him some of the money from their poker earnings then strolled off down the street. Stan observed that he seemed…off. There was a slight nervous energy about him that had been building since they got to New Mexico. He shrugged it off, figuring Rick would talk about it if he needed to, and went to run his errands.

Rick left in search of a mechanic store. He needed a can of compressed air and a few replacement wires. He usually carried spare parts in his duffel bag but he hadn’t been expecting to get chili in the circuitry of his portal gun the night before he met Stan. The wiring in it was delicate and he needed a few extra pieces to get it working again. Then maybe he wouldn’t have to spend so much time in the car. Normally, Rick was an impatient person. His first preference would never be to drive fifteen hours across the American southwest. So why had he done it? The portal gun was a relatively simple fix (once you removed all the chili) but he still chose to ask Lee for a ride. He felt oddly drawn to him, even if most of the car ride was spent in near silence.

Rick entered the hardware store and began poking around for the screws and wires he needed. He wished Stan were here. His pockets were better for shoplifting than Rick’s skinny jeans. Stan made Rick feel comfortable in a strange way. Ordinarily, Rick would talk to fill space and couldn’t sit still for very long. Yet, Stan calmed him. The silences weren’t awkward, they were peaceful. Rick’s nervous energy still came across in his lack of an attention span, but it wasn’t as bad. Rick pulled his flask from his back pocket and took a long drink. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and meandered to the check-out.

As Rick tried to remember where he’d left Stan, he passed a clothing store that was having a going out of business sale. He stopped near the storefront and looked down at his tank top. It was filthy; yet, it was the only thing he owned without blood on it. Figuring he had nothing better to do, he went in. He looked around the store, picking out a few things while the teenage cashier watched him. Something about the employee made the hair on Rick’s neck stand up, but he ignored it. Up close, one could almost think that the person’s irises were just a little bit too golden to be real.

Meanwhile, Stan had stocked up on a few snacks and beers to keep in the car. He’d filled the Stanleymobile up with gas and was about ready to try and find Rick. Then, the sudden realization came that Rick had not given him a meeting place or time.  _ Was…was he going to leave? _ Stan shifted uncomfortably in the line at the convenience store when this thought crossed his mind.  _ Will Rick come back? Or is this friendship something I fabricated in my mind? _ He tried to push those thoughts out of his consciousness. It bothered him how much he had begun to care about Rick, for several reasons. Number one, attachments lead to sadness. Stan’s family had been the only people he cared about and they all stabbed him in the back. Number two, he was worried he’d start to catch feelings for Rick. He couldn’t deny that he was an attractive guy, with his high cheekbones and slender build.  _ His hipbones that show when his shirt rides up…  _ Stan quickly shook those thoughts out of his head too.  _ I am not gay and that’s that. I like girls and only girls. _ Stan paid for his snacks and then left.

On his way back to the car, he began to take notice of how many people were wearing heavy combat boots and leather bracelets. He sighed. Disco was over apparently. He saw a woman with large ringlets of hair piled on her head; she was wearing a leather choker like the one Rick had talked about getting. Down the street a little way, was a store that seemed to be buzzing with these kind of people. Stan decided to check it out, out of curiosity of course. Once inside, he saw all kinds of silver jewelry, leather cuffs, boots, and clothing with chains on it. Stan stuck out in the store, wearing only his dirty red T-shirt and jeans. He browsed around until his eyes fell on a black leather collar with a D ring fastened to it. Quietly, he shoved it into his pocket and resumed shopping around the store. Pretending he had seen nothing interesting, he left and headed back to the car.

When he finally found where he’d parked, he saw that Rick had too. He was leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette. As Stan approached, he took a long drag and then dumped the stub on the pavement. Rick looked up to see Stan and gave him a head nod of acknowledgment. Stan unlocked the doors and Rick threw a couple plastic bags into the backseat. Stan did the same.

“You got everything you need?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, think so. You?”

“Yep. Picked up a few parts and bits for something I’ve been working on.”

Stan struggled with the engine for a moment, trying to get it to turn over. After a few tries, the engine finally sputtered to life and Stan pulled out of the town, back onto the highway. As he drove, curiosity got the best of him.

“What have you been working on exactly? I see you tinkering with stuff a lot.”

“Oh I-I’ve been working on my portal gun. It used to work but I had a bit of an…incident.” Rick replied, pulling a screwdriver from his duffel bag and absently twirling it in his fingers.

“What? You spill whiskey on it?” Stan laughed.

“Chili, actually,” Rick said sheepishly.

Stan laughed harder. “So what’s it do when it’s not full of chili?”

“Normally, i-i-it allows me to lock into any given place in the multiverse and then make a portal that takes me there.”

Stan stopped laughing and stared, wide-eyed, at Rick. “Are you serious? You’re like, crazy smart, aren’t you?”

“Eh I-I guess you could say that.” Rick shrugged.

“That’s wild. That kind of technology is- hey, wait a minute! If you could have fixed your portal thing, why the hell are we driving fifteen hours to Arizona?”

Rick blushed and shrugged his shoulders.

Stan laughed and put a hand on Rick’s face. “Maybe not so good on the common sense, eh?”

Rick laughed too, removing Stan’s hand from his face. “I just didn’t know h-h-how long it’d take to rewire it.”  _ Plus, I’m enjoying the time I get to be with you,  _ he added mentally.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Stan pulled the leather necklace from his pocket and handed it to Rick. “I saw this thing so I grabbed it for you.”

Rick laid the necklace out in his hands, admiring it. Heat crept up his neck and he was at a loss for words.

“I just remembered you saying you wanted one and I passed by it and so I thought I’d just take it since I was right there,” Stan rambled.

“Th-thank you,” Rick said sincerely. He looked over at Stan and gave a soft, genuine smile before leaning over to the mirror to watch himself put it on. His hands dropped to his lap once the clasp was fastened and he admired his new collar. It looked great on him. The fit was perfect and it seemed to accentuate his slender neck.

Stan took notice of this too and felt heat rise to his face.

“Th-th-thanks again, this is…really nice of you,” Rick said softly.

Stan smiled gently, “It’s nothing, I just saw it and I thought about what you said. It really does go well with your whole ‘punk rock’ thing.”

Rick laughed softly and then returned to rewiring his portal gun. He was so touched that Stan had thought of him. Rick had been worried that Stan didn’t care much for him, but it seemed he was wrong. The gift took the edge off of Rick’s anxiety a little bit.

When the two finally reached Phoenix, it was late into the night and Stan was exhausted. Rick tinkered diligently on something that was not his portal gun but was equally as complicated.

Stan pulled into a motel parking lot and went to the front desk to rent a room while Rick cleaned empty beer bottles out of the car. Stan returned to the car, retrieved Rick, and headed to the room. Upon entering, he flopped onto one of the beds and heaved a sigh of relief. Rick observed the room a little more closely, and upon finding it mostly clean, decided to take a shower.

The hot water felt great on his skin as he washed away a couple days’ worth of dirt. He closed his eyes and let the water rain down on his head. After standing in the shower for what felt like way too long, Rick realized he should get out and turned the water off. Rick wrapped a towel around his waist and stared at himself in the mirror. His normally wild hair was plastered down with water. He towel dried his hair and it stood back up. Rick tried to shake an uneasy feeling that was lurking in the back of his mind.  _ Maybe some sleep would help _ , he decided. He left the bathroom and glanced at Stan, who was fast asleep. Though he had managed to take off his jeans and crawl into the covers. A sudden thought crossed Rick’s mind to just crawl into the bed with him but he didn’t know if that would go over very well. Instead, he pulled on a pair of relatively clean boxers and hopped into the adjacent bed. 

While Stan slept soundly that night, Rick did not. Rick thrashed in his sleep, wadding blankets in his fist and kicking pillows onto the floor. Occasionally, he would let out a soft whine. While his dreams were normally unpleasant, this one was beyond that. It filled Rick with feelings of pure fear and helplessness. He finally awoke, sitting bolt upright in his bed. He blinked a few times, clearing his vision, and saw a very concerned Stan watching him from the other bed.

“Are you…feeling okay?” Stan asked.

“I-I-I th-think so,” Rick stammered in a reply. “Just having some crazy dreams.”

“You want some coffee?” Stan offered him a cup. It was only then that Rick realized that Stan was already showered, dressed, and had been out already. Half a dozen donuts sat on the nightstand as well.

Rick reached for the coffee and mumbled a thanks. He took a quick sip before reaching for his flask. He emptied the remaining contents of the metal flask into the coffee and stirred it. He felt as though he desperately needed the familiar buzz of alcohol to take the edge off. Stan drank his coffee too and leisurely read a newspaper he had picked up. It felt oddly tranquil after the violent sleep Rick had gotten.

Today Rick would be meeting up with his bandmates again, but not until the evening. They had gotten lucky enough to book a real concert this time, as part of a four day music festival. He was going to make today a good day. Rick pulled himself out of bed and meandered over to the bathroom to splash water on his face. He attempted to rake his fingers through his wild, tangled hair. It didn’t do him much good.

“Hey,” came Stan’s voice from the other room, “You think we got time to do laundry today? Shit’s getting pretty gross.”

“Y-yeah I think that’s a good idea.” The two gathered up their clothes, shoved them in a spare trash bag, then headed off to find a laundromat.

Fortunately, a few blocks from the motel, there was a small, slightly run down building with a sign that identified it as “Pete’s Laundromat”. After a few minutes of scrounging around car seats for quarters, the odd pair took their clothes and went inside. Between the two of them, there was only about one load. Stan questioned the necessity of both of them going on this outing, but it was something to do, he supposed.

“Should we sort out the colors or anything?” Stan asked.

Rick shot him an unamused look. “Do I-I look like someone who sorts their laundry?” He shoved the clothes into a machine.

“Fair enough! Carry on.”

“C-can you grab the soap for me?”

Stan walked over to a desk and rang a bell to get the attention of whoever worked there. The bored man came out, exchanged a few dollars for the detergent and then disappeared again.  _ Huh, slow day,  _ Stan thought. He and Rick were the only people in the building, which apparently didn’t warrant the attention of the employee. Stan returned to Rick and handed him the detergent.

“Thanks, darlin’,” Rick said with a wink. Stan raised an eyebrow at Rick but didn’t say anything. When Rick finished filling the soap tray, Stan leaned over him and slid the quarters into the coin slot. When Stan looked down, he realized he had accidentally pinned a wide-eyed Rick to the washing machine.

“Ahh! Sorry!” Stan jumped back.

Rick just laughed and patted Stan’s cheek. “Y-You’re cute when you’re flustered.” The two stood in silence for a moment, watching the washer pick up speed.

“We…didn’t think this through, did we?” Stan asked.

“No. No w-we did not.”

“The washers lock right? We could get some lunch.”

Rick thought about this for a moment then nodded at Stan. While the two ate lunch, they talked about hot-wiring cars, gambling, and -briefly- prison.

When they finished their lunch, Rick and Stan returned to the laundry just in time to switch it to a drier. Stan opened the machine and began to fish the damp clothes out, only to have Rick grab his butt when he bent over. Stan gave a slight yelp and then turned to Rick, who was smiling coyly. In response, Stan chucked a pair of wet boxers at Rick. They landed on his face with a wet  _ plop.  _ Rick peeled them off, looking unamused. Stan laughed at him and transferred the clothes to a dryer.

Rick stared at Stan appraisingly, an idea forming in his head. He slid up next to Stan, arms behind his back. Stan squinted at him, suspicious.

“So, Lee, are you…ticklish?!” Rick jumped at him, grabbing at his sides. Stan’s eyes widened and he held back a yelp. Quickly, Stan spun Rick around, pinning his arm to his back and slamming him against a washer.

Stan leaned close to Rick’s ear and whispered, “I don’t recommend that you try that again.”

Rick let out a soft grunt of acknowledgment and Stan released him.

“But what if I-I wanted you to pin me?” Rick said slyly.

“Then I’d say you’re a pervert,” Stan said with a chuckle. They finished the laundry, folding it sloppily, and headed out to the car.

They messed around for another few hours, shoplifting parts for Rick’s machines and wandering the streets of downtown Phoenix while Rick recounted to Stan his sexual escapades in space. Around five in the evening, the two men headed to the music festival to meet up with Rick’s bandmates. Upon arriving, Rick led Stan backstage to see that his singer and guitarist were already setting up.

“Squanchy! Bird Person! What’s up guys?” Rick greeted his friends.

“Rick. As always, I am glad to see you unharmed.” The singer with the feathers spoke in a deep, monotone voice.

“Rick! You ready to get this squanch going?” The cat thing excitedly looked at Rick.

“Fuck yeah! But first guys, th-this is my main man, Lee!”

Stan gave a shy wave and Bird Person and Squanchy returned the greeting.

“Guys, I-I-I am way too sober to play right now, let’s get a buzz going!”

“Now you’re talking!” Squanchy ran over to one of the black cases on the stage and pulled out a few bottles.

While Rick and the others plugged in amps and set up microphones, Stan observed and sipped from his plastic cup full of whiskey.

“H-hey Lee! C-could you give me a hand here?” Rick called from across the stage. Stan placed his drink down and trotted over to Rick. “Could y-you move this just offstage for me?”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Stan said, feigning disinterest.

Rick wrapped his arms around Stan’s neck. “Pleaaasee?” he asked softly.

“Heh, sure.” Stan disentangled himself from Rick, unsure what kind of game he was playing. He thought that a little flirting couldn’t hurt anyone but he was beginning to get a little more attached to the attention Rick was giving him. His touch was intoxicating.

The band shuffled things around for a little while before a man wearing a headset came onstage. “Twenty minutes, guys.” He trotted away.

“Oh sh-shit, I am not ready!” Rick scrambled around for a moment, digging through trunks until he produced a wide black belt with a skull buckle. He slipped it through his belt loops and smiled approvingly. He looked at Stan who motioned with his head that he would be waiting offstage when they finished. Rick gave him a thumbs up and grabbed his guitar, strumming it a few times as a test.

Stan meandered off the stage and into the large field the concert was being held in. A crowd was beginning to amass in preparation for the festival. The sun had just dipped beyond the horizon and the concert venue was flicking on the giant floodlights. Soon enough, an emcee came out on stage and introduced the first band, an opener consisting of three guys and a girl with jet black hair.

After their set, the emcee came back out and introduced Rick’s band, The Flesh Curtains. The curtains of the main stage pulled back to reveal the stage Stan had helped to arrange. He had heard Rick play before, but it hadn’t meant anything to him at the time. Now, watching Rick’s slender fingers fly across the guitar as he bit his lip in concentration, Stan felt oddly happy. He looked so intense in a way Stan had never seen before. And yet, that devilish smile was still the same. It was still Rick, just in a different light.

After the band finished playing, Stan returned backstage to greet his friend. Rick had a wild look in his eyes and his face shone with sweat.

“Th-that was fucking awesome, guys!” Rick congratulated his bandmates. He turned to Stan. “Hold onto your ass Lee, this shit’s going for another three days!”

Stan smiled widely at his companion.  _ This should be fun. _


	3. Fear and Stripping in Las Vegas

On the last day of the festival, Stan meandered backstage, coming off of his high. Squanchy kept everyone supplied with some strange, alien drug that kept Stan just the right amount of zoned out. Rick came bouncing from the stage, practically skipping. He tossed his guitar into its case and jumped on Stan. Startled, Stan wrapped his arms around Rick’s waist, hoisting him into the air. Rick threw his head back and whooped in excitement.

“Lee…Lee. What would you say--” Rick paused, regaining his balance as Stan set him back on the ground. “How would y-you feel about goin’ to Vegas?”

“Um, yes! Definitely!”

Rick yelled again, trying to jump back into Stan’s arms.

“Easy there, tiger,” Stan said, firmly planting his hands on Rick’s hips. Rick giggled. Stan deduced that he was still high. Bird Person and Squanchy joined the pair, having finished packing the band’s gear.

“So. Rick, you mentioned an after party?” Bird Person asked in his monotone voice.

“I’m talking about the after party to end all after parties. Let’s just go to Vegas and get totally fucked up.”

“I’m down!” Squanchy screeched.

Bird Person nodded as Rick threw an arm around Stan’s shoulder.

“Go get y-y-your car Lee. I-Its a pretty short drive so let’s get this sh-shit on the road!”

Stan disentangled himself from Rick, heading off to get his car.

Once the gang arrived in Las Vegas, they checked into a cheap motel, two rooms for the four of them. Rick busted out the whiskey before they had even gotten the key into the door.

Most of Vegas was a blur to Stan. He remembered bits and pieces like waking up one morning with Bird Person’s wing draped across his face and feathers in his mouth. He remembered watching Squanchy and Rick get into an eating contest in the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. And he  _ definitely  _ remembered patting Rick’s back as he threw up, shortly after losing the eating contest.

One night, Rick convinced his friends to go to the dance club/strip joint with him. The club they ended up at, Treasures, was having a discounted drink night: an effort to draw in customers. The Vegas strip was bustling with tourists from every country and competition was fierce for their patronage.

After waiting in line for what seemed like forever, the bouncer at the club lifted the velvet rope and let the strange group of four in. The whole club was bathed in colorful neon lights, illuminating stages and long rows of cushioned seats. Rick steered his friends to a U-shaped couch with a table in the center. He subtly flashed a roll of twenty dollar bills, grinning slyly.

“Where did you get that?” Stan asked.

“Sold a little bit of the good stuff to some suckers on the street. They were curious.” He laughed, stuffing the roll back in his pocket. Someone carrying a pad and pen came to their table, taking drink orders. Instead of ordering in glasses, Rick went straight for bottles. The waiter eyed him suspiciously but went to retrieve the drinks.

Not even thirty minutes later, Stan was leaned back in his chair; the whole room was spinning. He turned his head to the stage as an emcee jumped up, carrying a microphone.

“Alright folks, how is everyone doing tonight?” The crowd screamed in response, several people lifting their drinks into the air. “What do y’all say we have a little fun tonight, yeah? We are gonna get a couple of guests up on stage with us so they can show us what they got! The winner, determined by you guys, gets half off their tab for the night!” The crowd cheered again, as a voluptuous woman wove through the mass of people looking for volunteers. After picking a few eager participants, the woman returned to the stage, audience members in tow.

Rick scoffed as he watched the people on stage grind on the poles and shake their hips out of tune with the music. “I could do better than this trash,” Rick said, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Stan challenged him.

A determined look in his eye, Rick stood up. “Okay. I will.”

He walked to the base of the stage, staring up at the emcee.

“Oh looks like we got a challenger! Come on up here!” She extended a hand towards Rick, gesturing for him to join the fun. Rick hauled himself onto the stage, swinging his long legs around. He made a beeline for the nearest pole, wrapping one hand around it and walking in a circle experimentally. The song playing over the speakers switched to something synthesized with a hard beat. Rick threw his head back, his outstretched arm preventing him from falling back.

He rolled his body, hips thrusting provocatively towards the pole. He bit his lip in concentration. Rick reached his arms above his head, gripping the pole, lifting himself up and swinging his legs in a wide arc. As his feet touched the ground, he slid into a spin, sinking to his knees facing the audience. Bird Person and Squanchy raised their drinks, cheering for Rick.

Rick stood back up, his fingers tugging at the leather vest he wore over his tank top. He pulled it away from his body, swaying his hips in tune with the music. Rick shrugged out of his vest, twirling it around before hurling it into the audience. A blushing Stan caught it with sweaty hands as Rick winked at him.

Rick gripped the pole again and took a few steps before launching his legs straight up in the air, over his head. He held himself there with considerable strength, his legs making a V around the pole. He dropped his legs and did one more spin around the pole. Flipping his hair dramatically, Rick struck a pose and stuck his tongue out at the audience.

The crowd cheered excitedly, a few of the professional dancers even clapping for Rick. The emcee gestured largely to Rick.

“I think we have a fan favorite!” She handed Rick a plastic crown. He smiled arrogantly and returned to his friends.

Rick flashed his devilish, lopsided grin at Stan. “Happy now? Told you I’d do it.”

“Sorry for doubting you!” Stan laughed nervously.

Rick ordered a bottle of Fireball.

After that, most of the night was hazy.

Stan woke up lying diagonally across the bed, Rick draped across him. Stan jumped, scooting himself out from under Rick’s sleeping (or maybe unconscious) body. As he stood, the whole room pitched and a headache hit him like a train. Stan winced, leaning against the wall. Nausea rushed into his throat; he ran to the bathroom.

Stan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, flushing the toilet. Stan rinsed his face in the sink. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and jumped. He looked like he’d been hit by a car, and for all he knew, he had. Stan opted to take a shower in hopes that it would make him feel a bit better.

After cleaning himself off and putting on some relatively clean clothes, Stan walked out into the main room of the motel. Rick sat on one bed while Squanchy and Bird Person sat on the other.

Rick broke into a grin as Stan exited the bathroom. “Heyy, there you are! Feeling alright big guy?”

“I think so? What the fuck happened last night after the strip club?”

“Oh man, you were squanching shots like a monster!” Squanchy interjected. “It was incredible.”

Stan chuckled nervously. “Thanks.”

“We left the club and wandered the streets for a while,” Bird Person added in. “You and I got into a fight with some rabble-rousers and Rick took a swim in the fancy fountains.”

Stan sighed.  _ Not the worst night I’ve had. _

Rick took a quick swig from the bottle in his hand, then offered it to Stan.

He shook his head vehemently, his stomach churning at the thought.

“Do you ever stop drinking?” Stan asked.

“I’m afraid that if I do, the cumulative hangover will kill me. So not really.”

Stan just looked at him skeptically. “What should we do today?”

“I was hoping to get in a few good rounds of blackjack today. These two—” he jerked a thumb at Bird Person and Squanchy, “—gotta head out soon.”

“Sounds good to me. Just take it easy today?” With a start, Stan realized that they had been in Las Vegas for almost eight days.

Bird Person nodded.

After some discussion, the group decided that breakfast was the next logical step.

After breakfast, Stan and Rick made some good cash playing blackjack, while Bird Person and Squanchy played slots. Before they knew it, the whole day had passed and the hot desert sun was dipping below the horizon.

Without the heat of day time, Stan felt much better than when he had woken up. He and Rick bid farewell to Squanchy and Bird Person, who disappeared in a flash of green light down an alley.

Rick turned to Stan. “Hey! So we’re free to d-do whatever now, do you want to stay or go somewhere else?”

“Uh, it’s up to you I guess.” Stan shrugged. Rick thought about it for a moment, then checked Stan’s watch.

“W-well there’s supposed to be a m-meteor shower tonight. W-we could drive out and look?”

“Sure-” Stan patted Rick’s butt. “-let’s go check it out.” Rick packed up their stuff at the motel before the pair climbed into the Stanley mobile and headed out into the desert. 

Rick and Stan leaned back on the hood of the Stanleymobile, staring up at the stars. Rick silently recited the names of the stars and the systems they belonged to. Stan just stared, letting his mind wander.

“Have you ever noticed that we don’t really know anything about each other?” Stan broke the silence.

“Huh?” Rick returned himself to reality. “I-I guess…” Rick shifted uncomfortably at the thought of revealing his past.

“I don’t mean like, our whole life stories but…I don’t even know your favorite color or anything?”

Rick snorted, “I-is that stuff even important?”

“I don’t know! I just feel like I should be talking, so I am.”

“It’s blue. My favorite c-color,” Rick said quietly.

Stan laughed, “Mine is red. Though I guess that’s a little obvious because of my car.”

“And my favorite animal is a raccoon. I-I just love their stupid little bandit faces.”

“I’ve never really thought about a favorite animal,” Stan said. He noticed that Rick had his arms wrapped around his body. “Are you cold?”

The temperature in the desert had dropped pretty significantly and Rick had very little body fat to keep himself warm.

“Maybe? I-I don’t know.” Rick’s tank top did not afford him much protection.

Stan laughed and draped his sweatshirt over Rick’s shoulders. Rick scooted closer to Stan.

“Y-you spoil me, Lee.”

Stan smiled in the dark and put his arm around Rick. He tried to ignore his pounding heart as Rick entwined his fingers with Stan’s belt loop. Rick nuzzled his face into Stan’s neck. Heat rose to Stan’s face and Rick smiled.  Suddenly, Stan pulled away. A look of confusion and hurt crossed Rick’s face. But Stan wasn’t looking at him, he was staring off into the night as the roar of approaching engines grew louder.

“What the hell is that?” Stan asked, covering Rick’s hand with his own. Whether the gesture was to give or receive protection, Stan wasn’t sure. Two black cars with tinted windows and racing tires squealed to a halt next to where Stan and Rick were camped out. A broad shouldered man wearing a suit and a gas mask stepped out of the driver’s side door; a skinny man wearing a dust mask and sunglasses stepped out of the other car.

“Rick Sanchez,” the man with the gas mask’s loud voice boomed across the empty desert, “We’ve been searching for you for a long time. Return what you have stolen and you can live to see another day.”

“Look fellas, y-y-you got the wrong guy,” Rick replied.

“I know I am correct. Your days of hiding are over.” The man turned and gestured to the car, ushering out two more men.

While the focus was on Rick, Stan slid around his car to the passenger side and retrieved a crowbar he kept under the seat. This was going to get ugly. Rick slid off the car, balling his fists in preparation for the attack, Stan readied his crowbar. The man in the gas mask lunged for Rick, who swiftly dodged out of the way. He stepped backwards, away from the men and Stan’s car. While Stan tousled with the two side goons, Sunglasses rubbed his hands together eagerly, observing the chaos. 

Rick gripped the man’s wrists, pulling up a knee to hit him in the groin. Before he could connect, the man brought his head down on Rick’s. He then immediately flew into a hard right hook, knocking Rick on the ground. The assailant brought a leg up to kick the man on the ground. Rick grabbed his leg, elbowed him in the balls, and pushed him on the ground. He stood up, bruised, and stared down at the man. An evil smile spread across his face. Rick was too busy gloating to notice that the wiry man with the sunglasses had joined the fray. He raised a metal baseball bat over his head and brought it down with a crack on Rick’s skull. Rick collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“RICK!” Stan screamed, knocking out his second opponent. He immediately rushed to his friend’s side, his weapon raised in preparation. The thin stranger turned and took off his sunglasses and mask, then raised his hands in surrender. Up close, Stan could see that his skin was blue and his eyes glowed bright yellow.

He laughed an evil, psychotic laugh that echoed around the now silent night. “Easy there, tough guy. You can have him back. I just needed to teach him a lesson!” He laughed again then clapped his hands before crumpling to the ground. Stan stared for a moment, confused, before stepping over the man’s body to get to Rick.

He gently took Rick’s face in his left hand, his right hand feeling for a pulse on his neck. When he felt the soft heartbeat of his friend, Stan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. Gingerly, he scooped Rick into his arms, carrying him back to the car. He laid him in the passenger seat and leaned across him, belting him into the seat. Stan drove slowly back to the motel.

Stan carried Rick princess-style through the door of their room and plopped him down gently in a bed. He made sure to lay him on his side like when someone blacks out drinking. Stan retrieved a wet washcloth and did his best to wipe the dried blood out of Rick’s hair to get a better look at the wound. There was a large lump on Rick’s head and Stan suspected he’d gotten a concussion. He’d be hurting in the morning.

Stan took off his jeans and nestled in beside Rick. He wanted to be close by in case something went wrong. A few hours later, Stan felt movement beside him. He quickly woke up to see Rick, sitting upright and holding his head.

“Wh-where am I? What’s going on?” He mumbled.

Stan sat up and put a hand on Rick’s shoulder; his eyes looked bleary and unfocused. “You’re safe, it’s okay.”

Rick made a soft noise and laid back down. When Stan did the same, Rick scooted onto his side of the bed and pressed himself against Stan, balling his t-shirt in his fist. After a brief moment of surprise, Stan wrapped an arm around Rick, letting him lay on his chest.

When Rick woke up again, his legs were tangled in Stan’s and his head was pounding. At first, his reaction was to try and move away, but Stan was so warm and comfortable that he decided to enjoy the moment. If they weren’t both fully clothed, Rick might have thought he’d blacked out drinking and hooked up with Stan. Not that he would complain about getting a little more intimate with Stan, but he preferred to remember it. Not long after, Stan began to wake up. The first thing he noticed was the weight of Rick’s head on his chest and the feeling of his hand gripping his t-shirt.

“Are y-you awake?” Rick whispered.

“Yeah. How do you feel?” Stan made no move to disentangle Rick from him.

“M-my head fucking hurts.”

“Yeah, you got knocked out cold. Who were those guys?” Stan shifted his arm to a more comfortable position around Rick.

Rick tried to remember. Bits and pieces came flashing back to him. “I-I stole this priceless artifact or some shit from th-them and sold it on the black market. That skinny guy who was with them though…I don’t know.”

“He was the one who knocked you out,” Stan recalled.

“Hm. I-I don’t even know how they found me here though, th-that should be nearly impossible.”

“I guess it’s a mystery. Would you like anything? Are you hungry?” Stan changed the subject, worried about his friend.

“I just need some water I-I think.” Rick made a move to get up but Stan gently pushed him back down.

“I’ll get it. You’ve got a pretty nasty bump on your head. May even have more brain damage than usual!” Stan laughed, sliding out of the bed. Rick smiled softly, missing the heat of Stan’s body.

When Stan returned, much to Rick’s surprise, he got back in the bed with Rick. Rick sipped at the water while Stan squinted at a newspaper.

“D-do you wear glasses, Lee?”

“Not usually…though my eyesight is pretty bad.” He chuckled. Rick grinned at the thought of Stan with glasses, he imagined it would look quite cute. Rick finished his water and yawned. His head was still pounding, maybe some sleep could help. He hunkered down in the blankets and drifted off.

Not for the first time since meeting Stan, Rick had nightmares. But this time, the images were so crystal clear that he might as well have been awake. He stood in an arid desert, soft sands blowing and shifting around him. The wind hurled grains of sand that stung Rick’s face.

“Oh look! My old friend,” came a voice that didn’t have a clear origin point. It seemed to echo all around Rick, piercing his ears. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? And I bet you thought you were rid of me too!”

Rick opened his mouth to speak but only snakes came out.

“You must’ve lost your edge, Sanchez. I managed to get the jump on you, no problem.” The sands shifted, building a replica of Rick.  A dust mask wearing sand replica raised a bat over its head, pulverizing sand Rick. Rick’s hand nervously moved to the where the pain was throbbing in his head. He wanted to ask the creature why it was here, how it had returned, but his jaw wouldn’t work. The sand began to swirl up his legs, slowly dragging him down into the dunes.

“I’d love to stay and catch up but I have dimensions to conquer!” The voice rose in volume as the desert swallowed Rick whole.

Rick awoke with a start, coughing and panting. He sat up and gripped his chest to ensure that his heart was still beating. Stan jumped at the sudden movement, staring wide eyed at Rick.

“You, uh, doing alright there?” Stan asked hesitantly.

Rick’s eyes darted around the room until he spotted his duffel bag. He slid out of bed, ignoring the wave of nausea that came with standing, and retrieved the broken portal gun.

“I-I need to take care of something. There’s an issue.” He sat down at the motel desk and began to work feverishly on the gun.

“Hey, be careful. You’ll fry your brain if you think too hard.”

Rick ignored the comment but continued to rewire the gun. Unpleasant memories began to surface of his first time creating the invention. Back then, he had been filled with the same urgency, caused by the same creature. No matter how hard Rick tried, he would never be able to forget his first encounter with the isosceles psycho.

One day, after having blacked out in his lab, Rick had a strange dream. He dreamt that a triangle with one eye appeared out of the broken down home he had grown up in, and approached him.

“Look at yourself,” he said in a high pitched voice that seemed to echo around Rick’s head. “You’re a genius Rick Sanchez. And yet you spend your time wasting away, trying to kill whatever is left of your liver.”

Rick just stared, unresponsive. His feet felt anchored to the spot he stood in, which wasn’t uncommon for his dreams.

“Your intelligence is unmatched by any being in the entire universe and you are blacked out on the floor like a failure. Why?”

Rick shrugged. If he knew why then he sure as hell wouldn’t be drunk all the time.

“Because you might have some impressive brains, Sanchez, but you’re alone in this universe. YOU’LL DIE BROKEN, FRIENDLESS, AND ALONE ONE DAY.” The thing appeared to grow in size as his volume increased.

Around Rick, the scene shifted and he saw his own corpse, lying in a puddle of booze and blood. Rick stared incredulously at his own dead body; the sight of it made his stomach churn.

“But it doesn’t have to be this way!” Rick’s carcass faded away, replaced by the swirling mists and stars of the galaxy. The creature floated closer to Rick, looping a hand around his shoulder. “If you do me a tiny little…favor, I’ll make you the ruler of this universe! I’ll erase all of those troublesome memories that appear to bother you so much. And just think about it, a party THAT NEVER ENDS WITH A HOST THAT NEVER DIES! Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” Rick’s eyes cast to the floor. It laughed again. “THINK ABOUT IT KID. BUT WHO KNOWS HOW MUCH TIME YOU REALLY HAVE LEFT.”

The image of Rick’s dead body flashed back as Rick jolted awake.

Rick shook his head to clear the memory. He felt around for his flask only to find it in Stan’s hands, across the room.

“H-how’d you get that?” Rick asked incredulously.

“Master pickpocket. But you should be resting, after a concussion like that.”

“No time. I-I’ve gotta get the portal gun up and running again.”

Stan crossed the room and put a hand on Rick’s bony shoulder. “Then at least tell me what’s going on!”

Rick sighed. “There’s something weird going on here. Th-those guys last night didn’t find me on accident. Something lead th-them straight to me and I need to find out how. I-I’ve gotta find out what the Galactic Federation might know. As much as I hate bureaucrats, they must have something about it.”

“So what? We just walk right up and they’ll give up their info?”

“Not fucking likely. Th-they keep access to the databases on a select few research outposts, so y-you and I-I are going to find out which one, and then break in.”

Stan’s eyes widened. Rick turned back to his portal gun. Breaking and entering? To a galactic government base?  _ This’ll be interesting,  _ Stan thought.  


	4. A New Position

Rick spent the rest of the day furiously working on his portal gun while Stan left with a shopping list of things to pick up in preparation. The plan was for Rick to use one of the computers in the interdimensional customs to find a map of the Galactic Federation outposts. Certain research bases contained physical backups of information held by the government. They only trusted physical copies; wireless access could be hacked.

Rick finished rewiring his portal gun and immediately set to work building a few other objects. As soon as Stan returned, he grabbed the parts without a word and returned to angrily scowling at the metal while he built. Stan sat down on the bed without a word and observed Rick. He seemed to be aggressively putting together a small box. Stan thought to find items to pick locks with but he realized that he had no idea what to expect. Rick had clearly been to other planets and dimensions before, but he was busy building things. It was getting dark outside so Stan decided to watch some TV to calm his nerves. He drifted off.

When Stan woke up, Rick was snoring face down on the desk. Stan checked the clock. Three AM. He rolled out of bed and gently moved Rick from the desk to the bed, figuring he would sleep better lying down. Before he laid back down though, he wondered if he should sleep in the same bed as Rick or lay in the other one.  _ I just did it last night to keep an eye on him, right? _ He grunted and slid into the opposite bed, pulling the covers up, over his shoulders, and trying to figure out what had gotten into him.

Rick woke up in a bed, which startled him, as he had definitely not fallen asleep in one. Rick figured Stan had carried him so he got up and continued to tinker with his items. Currently, he was working on a silent stun gun that Rick would use to disable the guards in the outpost. He had already put together a receiver to find the exact location of the hard drive. Once he was convinced that everything was in order, Rick decided to take the portal gun for a test run. He would portal to a McDonald’s, grab some breakfast, and return.

He pointed the gun at the wall, wincing a little as he pulled the trigger, hoping it wouldn’t explode. A glob of green energy launched out of the gun, forming a swirling portal on the wall. He smiled and stepped through it, appearing in front of his destination. When he returned, Stan was still asleep. He put the breakfast and portal gun on the table, only to take a flying leap and land on top of Stan.

“Waughh!” He yelled, flailing his arms and knocking Rick on the floor. Rick rolled on the floor laughing while Stan stared down at him. “Jesus! How old are you?”

“Not too old to enjoy doing that!” Rick said between giggles. Stan groaned and threw a pillow on top of Rick. Rick pulled himself off the floor and handed Stan a breakfast sandwich with a grin.

“Hurry up and get it in gear, w-we got important shit to do.” Stan shoveled a sandwich and some hash browns in his mouth and proceeded to get up and shower. His heart was pounding in preparation for the break in. it had been awhile since he last had done anything like this; the end result had been…unsatisfactory.

He got out of the shower and meandered around the room in a towel, picking up clean clothes and trying to ignore the heated gaze of Rick. When they were both ready to go, Rick stopped Stan and handed him a metal bracelet.

“What’s this? Buying me presents now?”

“I-it’s a tracker. In case we get separated, I’ll be able to portal straight to you.”

“Got it. Let’s go?”

Rick nodded, launching a portal onto the wall. He grabbed Stan’s hand and jumped through the portal. Stan stumbled out into an enormous, brightly lit room.

He looked around incredulously. “Where are we?”

“Th-this dimension’s galactic customs. Usually, people have to use this place to dimension hop. But I-I break the rules with my portal gun. Now stay close to me. W-we have to get close enough to one of the guards with a communicator so I can download their star map.”

Rick looped his arm through Stan’s and began walking purposefully. Stan glanced around, stunned. There were so many weird creatures of all shapes, colors, and densities. Large bug creatures stood positioned near most of the doors, armed with guns.

“Psst. Pretend we’re lost, start an argument with me,” Rick whispered to Stan.

Stan stopped walking. “Are we going the right direction?”

“Um y-yeah. Obviously. You questioning me?”

“It seems like we are going the wrong way! Ask for directions!” Stan disentangled his arm from Rick’s.

“Oh here we go again, acting like I-I’m some kind of idiot!” Two guards who were standing nearby traded uncomfortable glances.

Stan rolled his eyes. Rick threw his hands up in the air. “Quit it, you’re causing a scene!” Stan said.

“Just follow me. I-I know what I’m doing.” Rick grabbed Stan’s arm and began dragging him off. Once they were out of the range of the guards, Rick turned and smiled at Stan, pulling a small device with a screen out of his back pocket. “Okay, I-I managed to snag a copy of their star map, I just need to find the coordinates…and input them.” He fiddled with the screen, and then his portal gun.

“How did you do that just by standing near them?” Stan asked. 

“Th-this thing wirelessly accesses the handheld computers they have and downloads the files I need,” Rick replied, waving his device.

Suddenly, he jerked Stan into the bathroom, locking them both in a stall.

“Uh Rick? I don’t think now is the time for this.” He looked down nervously at Rick’s backside pressed against him in the small confines of the stall.

Rick shushed him. “I-if the feds see me fire a portal gun, they’ll track me down.” He fired a portal at the stall door and stepped thorough. Stan followed closely behind.

The portal dumped them out in a forest with tall trees. Except, the trees had pastel yellow bark and teal leaves. The ground only seemed semi-solid underneath their feet. Rick silently motioned for Stan to follow him. They walked out of the forest and saw a blocky, gray building. They crept up to the side, approaching a window. Rick handed Stan a small tool with a curved end.

“Pick the locks,” Rick said quietly. Stan inserted the tool into the locks on the windows, shifting the tool around until he heard the familiar click. Rick stared determinedly at his screen, then motioned for Stan to crawl through the open window. Stan hoisted himself up, and then reached down to give Rick a hand.

Rick glanced anxiously around the room they had landed in. It was filled with a few couches and a kitchenette. The break room. Perfect.

“Okay, now w-we are going to wait here until an employee comes in here, we stun him, and use his info to get into the server room. Th-this facility has about seven employees total and th-they all have clearance,” Rick whispered. Stan nodded. They crouched behind the door and listened for footsteps. Eventually, the soft click of shoes on linoleum came echoing down the hallway. Rick prickled with anticipation. As the man -creature? - opened the door, Stan pounced on him, pinning him in a headlock while Rick stunned him with the black box he had created. The thing fell to the floor, unconscious. Rick rifled through his clothing, pulling out a security badge and a set of keys.

The two men snuck down the hallway, keeping an eye out for any additional workers in the building. Fortunately, they made it to the server room without any interruptions. Rick swiped the stolen security card at the door and then scowled angrily at the lock.

“I-it’s encoded…this’ll take me a minute-” he handed Stan the stun box, “-cover me.” Stan nodded while Rick toyed with the machine. When it finally clicked open, Rick gave himself a mental pat on the back. They slid inside but Rick motioned for Stan to wait by the door and keep watch. Again, he nodded without saying anything. Rick walked deeper into the chamber, a large console laced with glowing magenta wires sat near the middle of the room. He touched buttons until a large holographic display pulled up in front of him.

Rick stared in awe for a moment at the vast amount of information he had at his fingertips. Shaking off his adoration, he began to search through files, his eyes quickly darting from side to side, scanning the words. He had theories about the strange creature that had plagued him, but Rick had no idea where to start. Then it came to him. Begrudgingly, Rick searched for the coordinates of his home dimension. B-246. When information began flying onto the screen, one word in particular stood out to Rick, “ABANDONED.”

His heart sank into his stomach, but he powered through. He tracked the source of the dimension’s anomalies to several other dimensions that experienced similar phenomena. With the new information came pictures and case files. Among the pictures was a serious looking man with high cheekbones and sideburns, a solemn looking bearded man with glasses, and…a man who looked eerily similar to Lee. He wore glasses and had a dimple in his chin but the resemblance was uncanny. Rick selected that file. The home dimension was listed as J-09/, the dimension Stan and Rick had just come from. Rick swallowed hard but continued to press for causes of the anomalies. It all seemed to link back to a single source, a weird, half-dimension that slides around and causes weirdness to leak into other dimensions.

_ There must be a tear somewhere in Lee’s dimension, that’s how that triangle fuck found me, _ Rick thought to himself. Rick scanned the page again, looking for a name or any kind of information about the thing. He found nothing. Glancing back at Stan, he backed up some information to his screen device and returned the console to how he had found it.

“Lee. Time to go,” Rick whispered. The two men re-locked the door, returned the keys to the employee, and left via the window.

“Rick? Why didn’t we portal straight into the server room?” Stan asked as they jogged to the forest.

“The whole compound is protected, y-you can’t portal inside it.” He created a portal and jumped through with Stan in tow.

The two men landed gracelessly in their motel room, hearts pounding. Stan hunched over, his hands on his knees and smiled at Rick. In response, Rick clapped a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“Y-y-you wanna go get some drinks? I-I think we deserve to unwind a little bit.”

Stan thought for a moment, “Sure! Why not?”

 

Stan and Rick settled into a table in the bar/club across the street from their motel. Looking around the crowded bar, Stan realized it was a Friday night. He hadn’t really paid attention to what day of the week it was- hell, he didn’t even know the date. He looked over at Rick, he had his eyes closed and he was tapping his foot to the beat of the song playing over the speakers. He looked so relaxed. Stan smiled to himself and ordered drinks for them. Rick blew through four shots before Stan could even react. Stan hurriedly threw back three of his, trying to keep up with Rick. Rick smiled lopsidedly as Stan downed his fourth shot.

“Do y-you want to dance, Lee?” Rick scooted his chair closer to Stan.

“You’ve asked me this before; I don’t dance.”

“Aw, come on. Y-you might like it if you tried.”

Stan shrugged. He was a bit tired but he had a hard time saying no to Rick’s pleading eyes.

“I-I’ll even show you how!” Rick bargained.

“Fine. But I won’t be any good!” Stan stood up, pushing in his chair as Rick excitedly jumped up and attempted to drag Stan to the dance floor.

“Okay, so this i-is a club-”

“Thank you, captain obvious,” Stan interjected.

“-so dancing is pretty easy. Just put your hands on my hips…” He moved Stan’s hands then leaned in close to Stan’s ear. “And enjoy y-yourself.” Rick spun around, his ass pressed up against Stan.

Stan could practically feel Rick’s inhibitions melt away, while Stan only grew more anxious. Rick rolled his hips and ran his hands through his hair, grinding back on Stan. Involuntarily, Stan’s grip tightened and he leaned into Rick. The other bar patrons gave the pair sidelong glances.

Stan couldn’t help but notice the looks they were getting. Rick had his head thrown back, like they were the only two people in the world. Rick turned around to face Stan again, biting his lip provocatively and throwing his arms around Stan’s neck. When he saw the look of discomfort on Stan’s face, he dropped his arms.

“I-i-is everything alright?” Rick looked concerned and a little hurt.

“Yeah. Just need some air I think.” Stan pushed past Rick, heading for the exit of the bar. Rick quickly darted back to their table, downing the two remaining shots before following after him.

“Hey!” Rick stopped a few yards behind Stan. “Look, i-if you’re not interested in me, c-could you fucking tell me? Just so I-I know what to expect.” Rick dropped his hands to his sides, exasperated.

“Rick, I…” Stan began.

“’Cause, we’ve been flirting and having a great time but if y-you’re just going to be a tease then I’m not going to bother.”

“Okay, obviously I care about you but I’m just a little confused about all this!” Stan raised his voice.

“Wh-what the hell is there to be confused about? Y-you’re either into me or you aren’t.”

“I just didn’t think I was gay! Alright? Happy?”

“What?” A look of honest confusion crossed Rick’s face. “Is that really what’s bothering you?”

“Um…yes? Did you see the looks we were getting in the bar?”

“No,” Rick said softly. “I-I w-was only thinking about y-you. Who cares wh-what anyone else thinks? They don’t matter.” Rick moved a couple steps closer to Stan. Stan’s palms sweated nervously at Rick’s unbreaking eye contact. “I-if y-you’re attracted to someone th-then what the hell does it matter what gender they are? I-if you like me-”

Rick was cut off as Stan closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against Rick’s in a spur of the moment decision. Rick’s eyes widened in surprise before closing them and leaning down into the kiss. The kiss was soft, full of a sort of gentle adoration. Rick couldn’t remember the last time he had been kissed so sweetly.

Stan broke away. “I do like you. I’m sorry. You’re right.” 

The brief look of surprise on Rick’s face was quickly replaced by a cocky smile at Stan’s admission.

Rick cocked his head to the side. “You know…it’s getting kind of late. We should maybe head back to our motel,” Rick said slyly.

Stan smiled and nodded. “Good plan.”

They walked back to the motel, Rick’s long legs carrying him quickly to the door. Rick opened the room door chivalrously, gesturing Stan into the room. When Rick closed the door behind him, he grabbed Stan’s ass. Reflexively, Stan whipped around and pinned Rick to the door by his shoulders. Rick stared wide-eyed at Stan before taking his flask out of his back pocket.

He took a sip. “Let’s do this.” Without bothering to recap it, he tossed it on the floor.

Stan laughed nervously. Smiling devilishly, Rick pulled Stan’s head forward into a rough kiss. Stan tried his best to return the heat and intensity of the kiss. He picked Rick up, hands cupping his backside, and pushed him against the door. Rick wrapped his long legs around Stan’s waist. Stan shifted him upwards, his mouth moving down to his neck. Rick sighed softly, tilting his head to expose more of his slender throat. Stan’s hand moved to the clasp of the choker necklace, attempting to unhook it in order to gain better access to Rick’s neck. 

Rick stopped him. “I-I want to keep it on…” Heat rose to Rick’s face. 

Stan smiled gently at him before returning his mouth to the sensitive skin along Rick’s collarbone. Stan grinded into Rick with his growing erection, pressing him harder against the door.  Rick let out a soft moan, prompting Stan to carry him away from the door and drop him onto the bed.

Rick smiled at him and began to undress. Slowly, Rick’s hands teased up his tank top, exposing his slim torso. He flung the shirt to the side and stood up, unbuckling his pants and sliding them down to the floor. Through the boxer briefs that Rick had left on, Stan could see Rick’s hard cock, begging to be freed. Rick looked at a stunned Stan, who was staring down at Rick’s body in awe. Rick smiled, his mouth moving to Stan’s neck to bite and suck on it while his hands slid underneath Stan’s t-shirt. Stan leaned his head back, his hands gripping Rick’s hips. Rick began to help Stan out of his shirt. Stan complied by lifting up his arms as Rick pulled the shirt up and over his head.

Rick bit his lower lip and stared down at Stan’s chest, admiring the view. Stan blushed as Rick fumbled with his pants button. When he finally got it undone, Rick dropped to his knees, bringing Stan’s pants with him. Stan felt heat rise to his face as Rick toyed with the hem of his boxers, carefully avoiding Stan’s clothed erection. Rick tugged one side of Stan’s boxers down, biting roughly at his hip bone. Stan grunted softly and Rick smiled evilly. He pulled down Stan’s boxers the rest of the way, allowing them to pool around his ankles. He kissed and sucked at Stan’s hipbones, slowly working his way closer to Stan’s cock. All Stan could do was watch, wide eyed, as Rick slowly licked from the base of his shaft all the way to top. Rick did this a few times, licking the sides and top of Stan’s cock while Stan slowly- apprehensively- tangled his fingers in Rick’s long hair. Glancing up at Stan, Rick suddenly took the entirety of Stan’s cock into his mouth. Stan groaned, gripping Rick’s hair a little harder. Rick bobbed his head, making loud, purposeful noises as he took Stan into his mouth each time. Stan shifted, his legs feeling weak beneath him. He pulled gently at Rick’s hair. Rick looked up.

“Bed. Now,” Stan commanded.

Rick stood, wiping his mouth on his wrist and smiling coyly.

“Duffel bag. Front pouch,” Rick pointed across the room.

Stan stepped out of his pants and located Rick’s duffel bag. Inside the pouch was a bottle of clear lube. He turned around in time to see Rick flinging his underwear across the room as he lay on the bed, his knees in the air and his legs spread. Stan marveled at Rick for a moment. His long legs looked so elegant, the look on his face so provocative. Stan climbed on the bed, kneeling on all fours over Rick. When Stan paused, looking uncertain, Rick took Stan’s hand in his and gently guided it down to his cock, fingers reflexively wrapping around it. Rick released Stan’s hand as he began to slowly stroke Rick’s shaft. Rick bit his lower lip and stifled a moan. Stan sped up and Rick gripped the sheets tightly, balling the fabric in his fists. Stan sat up, pulling Rick with him and shifting so Rick sat on top of Stan, straddling him.

Stan sat up against the headboard, moving Rick to a half-kneeling position over him. Peering over Rick’s shoulder, Stan uncapped the lube, spreading some on his fingers. He slid his hand down Rick’s backside, eliciting a small gasp from Rick at the cold fingers trailing down his ass.

“Come on, quit fucking around,” Rick hissed.

Stan, gripping Rick’s backside with one hand, slowly inserted his middle finger into Rick’s ass.

Rick pushed back against his hand. “Y-yeah... just like that.”

He began fingering Rick, moving in and out for a minute before adding another finger. Rick slammed a hand into the backboard of the bed, steadying himself.

“One…” Rick panted. “One more…”

Stan obliged, sliding in another finger. Rick let out a small, involuntary noise as Stan pumped his fingers.  

“Okay, I-I’m ready i-if you are.” Rick’s breath was uneven.

Steeling his nerves, Stan flipped Rick off of his lap, turning him over and pushing him towards the edge of the bed. Stan half stood, one knee braced near Rick’s hip and his other foot on the ground. Stan uncapped the lube again, adding some onto his cock. He roughly grabbed Rick’s ass cheek, positioning the head of his dick near Rick’s entrance. He paused.

“Lee. I want you to fuck me.” Rick turned his head slightly, desire clouding his face. 

At Rick’s request, Stan pushed the head of his cock into Rick’s ass, bracing a hand between his shoulder blades. He took a deep breath and thrusted himself the rest of the way in. A soft cry escaped Rick as Stan began to pump his cock in and out. The pressure Stan felt around his cock was incredible, unlike anything he had ever felt before when sleeping with girls. Stan thought his thick hand looked enormous compared to Rick’s slender…gorgeous back. 

Rick’s fingers grasped at the sheets, his knuckles turning white. “Faster,” he begged. 

As Stan picked up speed, he gritted his teeth in concentration. Rick arched his back, pushing himself back into Stan. Stan grunted, thrusting into Rick, his balls touching Rick’s ass as he pressed Rick into the mattress. Stan felt a pressure building in the pit of his stomach; he jutted his hips forward roughly while tangling his fingers in Rick’s hair.

“Don’t…stop…” Rick panted. Stan made a soft noise in acknowledgement as he pulled Rick’s hair. Rick’s stomach clenched and his muscles tightened as he came; a soft whimper escaping him. Stan fucked him through the overstimulation, thrusting harder into his ass until he came too. The whole world faded away and all he could think about was Rick, right here in front of him. Stan let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in. He pulled himself out of Rick, cum dripping off of his cock. Stan panted as Rick rolled over and sat up to look at him. Rick reached up and grabbed Stan’s wrist, pulling him down into a kiss. When they broke the kiss, Stan looked down at himself, sweaty and covered in cum.

“W-want to get in the shower with me?” Rick offered.

Stan nodded, still breathless, and followed Rick into the bathroom. 

Rick turned the shower knob as Stan rested his face in the nape of Rick’s neck. Rick stretched a hand out to test the water. Upon finding it to be a tolerable temperature, he stepped into the shower.

“Do you think we’ll both fit?” Stan looked at Rick skeptically.

Rick snorted. “Y-yeah. I-I’m pretty small and it’s not like we’re worried about being close to each other.” He smiled lopsidedly and reached out to pull Stan in by the hand. Rick pressed his chest against Stan’s and grinned at him.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. Don’t get smug about it.” Stan leaned back into the stream of water while ignoring the look on Rick’s face. Closing his eyes, Stan scrubbed shampoo through his thick hair while Rick rubbed the bar of soap over himself.

“Hey. Trade spots with me,” Rick said. Obliging, Stan shuffled past Rick, allowing him to move under the warm stream. Rick scrubbed soap through his wild hair before rinsing it out. The water plastered his hair down, sticking it to his scalp.

Stan snorted. “You look like a drowned rat, you know.” Rick squinted angrily in response before shaking his head like a dog, spraying water everywhere. Laughing, Stan put his hands on Rick’s hips, planting a kiss on his jaw. Rick was surprised at how gentle Stan could be. He’d gotten in the shower expecting a second round of sex, but, somehow, this was...better. Until now, the affection Rick had seen was passionate and wild, where this was sweet and comfortable. Rick tilted his head down and kissed Stan, trying to replicate the soft kisses that he gave. Stan wrapped his arms around Rick’s waist, feeling happy. He was happy to feel liked, he was happy to feel more comfortable with these feelings that now had a name.

“You suppose we should get out of the shower?” Stan asked.

Rick laughed. “I-I guess so.” They turned the water off and dried themselves. Rick rubbed the towel roughly through his hair, making it stand up again.

“Happy now?” He asked sarcastically.

“Yeah,” Stan replied, laughing.

They walked out of the steamy bathroom; Stan picked up a pair of clean boxers and pulled them on.

“Oh, y-you’re getting dressed?” Rick asked, a twinge of disappointment in his voice.

“I can’t sleep naked. Feels weird.” Stan laughed while Rick put on a pair of underwear as well.

“I-I’m sleeping with you because that other bed is still…damp.”

“Fine by me. Just keep your cold feet off of me.” 

Rick shrugged his shoulders and crawled into the bed with Stan. While Stan fell straight asleep, Rick’s mind was racing. He needed to find the tear in this dimension, along with the poor sap who had been tricked into opening it fully.  _ Maybe I could build a machine to detect weaknesses? Would anomalies be more common in that area? There was a location near the Florida Keys where the dimensional barrier was thinner, but would it be the same in this dimension? Building something could be time consuming, but what choice do I have? The Galactic Federation barely had any information on this dimension, only that problems were beginning to arise. They didn’t have any jurisdiction on this Earth; they couldn’t interfere. _ A particularly loud snore from Stan brought Rick back to reality. When he looked over at his sleeping companion, Stan’s back was facing Rick, his shoulders rising and falling with his steady breath. Rick pressed himself against Stan, his head nestled between Stan’s shoulder blades and buried his cold feet in Stan’s legs. Stan’s overabundance of body heat perfectly complemented Rick’s near lack of it. Feeling comfortable with his new position, Rick allowed himself to drift to sleep.


	5. Testing Phase

Well into the daylight hours of the next day, Rick had finally made some decent headway on a way to find where the dimensional tear might be. Even in the testing phase of his machine, Rick figured it would be able to give him a rough area of where to find the hole. He wasn’t sure how specific the machine would be.  _ One way to find out,  _ he figured. Narrowing his eyes, Rick flipped switches and turned a few dials before hitting the launch button.

The machine let out a loud, low noise, not unlike a foghorn, making the room vibrate. Stan looked up from his magazine and glared at Rick.

“What the hell did you do?” The machine made another, higher noise, before going totally silent. Rick didn’t respond to Stan. Instead, he stared closely at the screen and gauges. He frowned at the screen.

“Not specific enough,” Rick said to himself. “Gave me a distance, but not a direction.” He went back to working on the machine. Stan shrugged and continued reading.

Another hour passed and Stan finally got bored. He left the motel room to find a bar to play pool or darts in. Rick continued to work.

When Stan returned after the sun had gone down, Rick was exactly where he had been four hours ago. The only difference was the couple of empty beer bottles cluttering the table.

“Rick. Give yourself a break. You’ll work yourself to death.” Stan plopped down a sandwich he had gotten for Rick.

Rick looked up. “Holy shit. Wh-what time is it?”

“Eight pm. You’ve been sitting there since noon.”

“Fuck me. I-I really spaced out there.”

“No shit.” Stan watched Rick open the sandwich and begin eating. “I won fifty bucks playing darts.”

Rick nodded approvingly, his mouth full.

“You making any progress on that gizmo?”

Shrugging, Rick finished his sandwich and turned back to the machine. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do. I-it’s weird trying to pinpoint this thing I’m looking for.”

Stan put a hand on the back of the desk chair, spinning it around to face him. “Take a little break. You’ll fry your brain if you aren’t careful.” Stan thought back to when his brother used to get this involved in mystery novels or some new experiment. It worried him to see this in Rick.

“All right, Lee.” A lazy smile spread across Rick’s face. “Distract me.” 

Stan braced a hand on the desk behind Rick, winding the other through Rick’s hair. He pulled Rick’s head back, forcing him to look up at Stan. The seductive smile on Rick’s face almost melted Stan right then and there. Stan brought his hand down to Rick’s thigh, balancing himself as their mouths connected. Suddenly, Stan felt Rick bite down roughly on his lower lip. His grip on Rick’s leg tightened. Stan grabbed Rick’s wrist, pulling him up, out of the chair. Rick latched himself onto Stan’s neck, roughly kissing and biting the sensitive skin.

“You are really bitey today,” Stan huffed, fumbling with the button on Rick’s pants.

Rick slid his hand into the pocket of Stan’s jeans, squeezing his ass through the denim. 

Rick’s button finally undone, Stan clumsily stepped backwards and sat on the edge of the bed. He scooted backwards as Rick attempted to climb onto his lap. Leaning against the headboard, he eagerly pulled Rick forward. Rick straddled Stan’s waist, excitedly sucking on his earlobe as he grinded his hips down on Stan. Stan’s fingers, splayed across Rick’s back, curled involuntarily. Sliding his hands up Rick’s spine, under his shirt, he edged up the thin fabric. Rick pulled himself away from Stan for just long enough for him to pull the shirt over his head. Stan threw the shirt to the side and jerked Rick into a rough kiss. His tongue slid into Rick’s mouth as Rick began to work on Stan’s belt buckle. Rick rocked his hips on top of Stan, grinding against his growing erection

Suddenly, the machine on the desk made a series of beeping noises, drawing Rick’s attention.

“Give me just a second…” Rick started to get off of Stan, only to have Stan’s strong hands pull him back.

“It’ll still be there when we’re done. This is a distraction, remember?”

“Yeah but…”

Stan grabbed Rick’s face, turning him away from the machine. “This is all that matters right now.” Stan buried his face in Rick’s neck, grazing his teeth across the skin. He felt the tension in Rick’s shoulders release a little bit as he gave out a gentle sigh. With his hands on Rick’s hips, Stan flipped him on his back so he was on top, his body between Rick’s legs. Stan pinned Rick’s arms above his head and thrusted his hips down onto Rick.

Rick’s eyes widened at this sudden display, and he growled with pleasure. Stan pulled Rick’s pants off, and then his own shirt. Rick admired Stan’s body, his broad shoulders and hairy chest. He bit his lip excitedly. Then, Stan did something unexpected. He pulled his belt free and bound Rick’s arms to the bedframe above his head with it.

“Wow Lee, I am really into this alpha thing. Super f-fucking hot.”

Stan just smiled slyly and moved his head to Rick’s chest, slowly tracing his tongue around Rick’s nipples. Rick’s bound hands clenched at Stan’s teasing. As Stan’s teeth gently closed down, Rick’s back arched. Stan shifted his weight off of Rick, sliding his hand down to Rick’s clothed erection.

“Aah…th-this is too much. Please. I need it, Lee.” Rick begged.

“But I’m having so much fun! The look on your face is too perfect.” Stan gave one last bite to Rick’s nipples before reaching over to the nightstand to grab the lubricant. Stan teased down Rick’s underwear, freeing his cock. Stan slid his fingers down Rick’s body, pressing them against his ass. Then, while sucking on his neck, Stan began to finger Rick.

Rick panted, his head thrown back as Stan slid another finger in, picking up speed.

“Lee. Please…please.”

Stan smiled down at him, kicking off his boxers, and positioned himself between Rick’s legs. He nudged Rick’s legs up, rubbing the head of his cock against Rick as he added some lube to himself. Rick wrapped his legs around Stan’s waist as he entered Rick.

“Ugh, finally,” Rick panted. Thrusting into Rick, Stan hunched over, mouthing at Rick’s pierced earlobe. The grip of Rick’s legs tightened as he urged Stan to go deeper, faster. Bracing himself up on a forearm, Stan lifted himself up, gazing down at Rick’s face.

His eyes were foggy and his forehead shone with a thin layer of sweat. Rick’s lips were parted, his breath hard and uneven.

Abruptly, Stan felt fingers in his hair, pulling him into a rough kiss. Rick’s other (suddenly free) arm snaked down between them, his long fingers wrapping around his cock. Stan gave a rough thrust into Rick, eliciting a soft groan. Stan felt his stomach tighten and broke away from the kiss, panting.

“Lee, I-I-I’m gonna…” Rick’s hips jutted upwards as he came. Stan’s fingers curled tightly in the sheets next to Rick’s head as he followed him. Rick’s eyes were closed, his head laid back on the bed. Stan let out a long breath as his mind came back into focus; he scooped a towel off the floor and cleaned himself off. He handed the towel off and laid down next to Rick.

Coming down from the high, the two lay in relative silence, their heavy breathing filling the space. Rick scooted a little closer to Stan, leaning his cheek on Stan’s shoulder.

“How’d you get out of that belt?” Stan finally asked.

Rick laughed, his eyes still closed. “I’ve got skinny wrists. I decided I was done with that so I just slid out.”

Stan chuckled. “You’re a little shit, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rick conceded. The machine gave a soft beep, as if to remind Rick of his unfinished business. Stan glanced down at him, expecting Rick to return to his project. Instead, Rick just rolled on his side to face Stan, nuzzling his face into Stan’s arm. Having cooled down enough to feel comfortable, Stan rolled over as well, drawing Rick in close. Stan tangled his fingers in Rick’s dusty blue hair, already beginning to drift off. Something cold pressed against Stan’s calves.

“Keep your cold ass feet off of me.” He murmured sleepily.

“Never. Y-you’ve got all this body heat so I’m gonna use it.”

Stan just smiled into the dark room. His heavy eyes closed and Stan slipped into sleep.

When Rick awoke in the morning, he found himself wrapped in Stan’s arms, in a room bathed in sunlight. It was so…peaceful. He wasn’t used to these tender moments of genuine affection. Blinking a few times, Rick realized that he had slept soundly: no nightmares. It was maybe the best sleep he had gotten in years. He wanted to get up and finish his sensor, but moving would mean waking Stan. Instead, Rick ran calculations in his head. His eyes locked on a random place on the ceiling as numbers and equations flew through his mind. Eventually, Stan began to shift and Rick took it as an opportunity to slide away from him, over to his machine. Rick quickly made the adjustments he had thought of and left the machine to calibrate for a few minutes. His stomach growled insistently. Rick pulled some clothes on before picking up his portal gun and leaving in search of breakfast.

Upon his return, Stan was just beginning to wake up. Rick set the breakfast sandwich bag on the desk and sat down to work on his machine. Stan rolled out of bed, meandering across the room. Rick expected a remark on his work on the machine but was pleasantly surprised with a kiss on top of his head as Stan made his way to the bathroom.

_ What did I do to deserve him?  _ Rick wondered to himself. The shower started up and Rick prepared a test of his machine.

After several hours of trial and error, Rick’s machine was finally accurate enough to give Rick a direction and distance of the source of the anomalies. It seemed as though the readings were coming from the Pacific Northwest, likely in the state of Oregon. Rick decided that he would portal as close as he could to the source of the readings, and then search the area closer for signs of large amounts of energy. Rick began to make rounds through the room, gathering his clothes and machine parts. As he was almost done, Stan returned from pickpocketing drunks at a bar, counting a large stack of bills. He opened his mouth to say something but paused when he saw Rick packing up.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, confused, a twinge of sadness creeping into his voice.

“Y-yeah, grab your shit. We gotta go to Oregon.”

The tension in Stan’s shoulders released when he realized Rick wasn’t trying to leave without him. He scurried around the room, throwing his clothes into a backpack. He unbuckled his belt from where it had been left on the headboard all night, tossing it into the bag too. After doing one last sweep of the room, Stan stood by the door, staring at Rick.

“Let’s get a move on!” Rick opened the door, gesturing Stan out.

They settled in the car and exited the city, driving out onto the empty highway.

“Don’t tell me we are driving all the way to Oregon…” Stan said incredulously.

“Of course not. Hold on to your ass, Lee.” Rick stuck his head out the window, aiming his portal gun in front of the car and firing. A wide green portal swallowed the car whole, then disappeared from the Arizona highway. Stan’s car came to an abrupt halt on what looked like a back country road surrounded by tall redwood trees.

“A little warning next time?” Stan stared wide-eyed at Rick.

“I-I told you to hold onto your ass, didn’t I?” Rick gave a small shrug. “Drive around until we can find a town or something.” Rick reached into the backseat and pulled out a beer, cracking it open and leaning back, his feet on the dashboard.

The pair drove aimlessly until reaching the main road and, eventually, a small town. Stan stopped to fill the car up with gas while Rick went in to ask some locals about weird events. When Rick came back out, he informed Stan that a nearby tourist trap town was pretty famous for strange occurrences. They drove to the town, through a giant set of cliffs that secluded the town from the outside world.

“Welcome to Gravity Falls!” a signpost proclaimed. Rick glanced angrily at the darkening sky; clouds were rolling in over the mountains, threatening rain. It was only mid-afternoon and Rick had hoped to find the dimensional tear today, before the triangle could realize how close he was.

“So what’s the plan?” Stan interrupted Rick’s train of thought.

“Oh. Uh. Y-you find somewhere to stay for tonight and I-I am going to run some tests out in the forest.” Rick reached into his bag and produced the tracker bracelet he had given Stan before they broke into the research outpost.

“Will do!” Stan clasped the bracelet around his thick wrist before pulling Rick into a kiss. When Stan released his gentle hold on Rick’s jaw, Rick smiled and got out of the car, heading off into the woods. 

Rick had been wandering through the woods for about ten minutes, when a fiery red light accompanied by a shockwave ripped through the forest, knocking Rick on his ass. Encouraged, yet equally concerned, Rick sprinted in the direction the light had seemed to come from. Rick’s long legs carried him quickly over brush and tree roots, his hand flying to his back pocket where he had an energy gun stored. Coming into a clearing, Rick saw a large wooden shack with a sharply sloping roof.  _ I bet this is it,  _ Rick thought to himself. His fingers curled around the gun as he began to creep around the property. Spotting an in-ground cellar door, Rick’s curiosity got the best of him; he leaned down to open it. Locked. The handle rattled loudly at Rick’s prodding and a porch light flicked on. Rick started to run.

“Hey! Freeze or I swear to god I will shoot you!” Came a gruff voice from near the house.

Rick rolled his eyes and groaned. “All right, you got me. Just a curious guy coming to take a look around.” He turned to face…Stan? The man who had emerged from the house looked unbelievably similar to Stan, right down to the sprouts of hair that stood out of his part.

“Drop your gun!” He yelled, in a voice that was definitely not Stan’s, but had a similar gravelly tone to it.

Rick squatted down, placing his gun in the dirt, then rose back up with his hands in the air. The man squinted angrily at him, shining a flashlight into Rick’s eyes.

“Ah man, what the fuck?”

The stranger did not reply, and instead just kicked Rick’s gun away from him, keeping his eyes locked on Rick’s face.

“Get the hell out of here.”

Rick shrugged his shoulders, lowering his hands. “By the way…whatever you’ve built, it’s dangerous.” Rick broke into a run, disappearing into the dark forest.

The man stared after him, baffled.

Once out of sight of the man, Rick shot a portal back to Stan. Rick stepped out into a small motel room; Stan lay on the only bed, watching TV.

“Hey. Find what you were looking for?” Stan glanced over at Rick.

“Oh, y-yeah. Some weird science hut in the woods, a few glowing lights, and by the way, y-you wouldn’t happen to have a long lost twin brother would you?”

Stan’s eyes widened, his hand paused midway through reaching for the remote. “Why?” he asked simply.

“Because I-I think he might be in real trouble. There was a guy who looked just like you out there, except he had a dimpled chin and wore glasses.”

Stan sighed. “That sounds like Stanford all right.”

“Wh-what happened with you two?” Rick sat down on the bed, resting a hand on Stan’s leg.

“I made a stupid mistake. ‘Ruined his future’ he claimed. So my parents kicked me out of the house before I could even finish high school.”

Rick nodded knowingly, he was no stranger to rough family life. “Would you like to see him with me? I still have to take care of what I came here for.”

“I’m…not sure.” Stan had an unreadable expression on his face.

“Th-that’s okay,” Rick struggled to find something reassuring to say. “Y-y-you just want to go to bed?”

Stan nodded, wrapping Rick in his arms and pulling him down onto the mattress.

“Agh, let me take off my shoes!”

Stan just laughed, squeezing Rick harder and nuzzling his face into Rick’s back.


	6. Mistakes

Sitting at a greasy diner in town, Stan and Rick sat in a solemn silence. Rick knew he had to dismantle the dimensional device, though with Stan’s brother…things became more complicated. His initial plan was to kill the man and then forcibly take the machine apart. Though, now, he didn’t think that would go over too well.

Stan looked up from his breakfast. “I think I need to see my brother.”

Rick shook himself out of his stupor. “Really? You’d come with me?”

“Yeah. If he’s doing something stupid, then I need to knock some sense into him. Heh, just like when we were kids.” Stan smiled ruefully.

“I-if you’re sure.”

Stan nodded.

“Thanks.” Rick gave Stan his best, genuine smile.

A waitress with red hair piled on her head stopped by their table. “You boys need anything?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know which road leads to the cabin way back in the woods, do you?” Rick remembered how he got there, but it would be better for him and Stan to drive.

“Sure! Just off the main road between the cliffs, there’s a dirt road. People say weird things happen there though, be careful.” She winked at the boys and ambled away.

Heaving a big sigh, Stan slapped some cash on the table and looked expectantly at Rick.

“Let’s go?” Rick asked.

Stan nodded silently, following Rick out of the diner and out to the car. They sat in silence in the car. Stan’s mind raced, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face his brother. He wasn’t sure what exactly Rick needed from him. He just…wasn’t sure about anything. Rick had kept him in the dark for the most part, and Stan followed blindly. 

_ I trust Rick, don’t I? _

They arrived in front of the shack with the sharply sloped roof. A tan car was parked out front. Ford was home. Stan stepped out of the driver’s seat, inhaling the wild mountain air. Rick stared, unsure of what to do. He crossed over to Stan, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Stan scooped him into a bear hug, looking for comfort.

“Let’s go knock.” He released Rick. “I’ll go first if you’d like.”

Rick shrugged, Stan’s brother wasn’t likely to receive either of them very well, but Stan would at least be a more familiar face.

Stan stepped up to the porch and rapped his knuckles against the wooden front door. Rick stood behind Stan, eyeing the door warily. They waited.

The door creaked open. Stanford peered out.

“What? What the hell do you wa-“ he paused mid-sentence, his eyes locked on Stan. “Stanley. What are you doing here?” His gaze fell to Rick, “And who’s he?”

“Stanford, this is Rick. He picked up some weird signals that we followed to your house here.”

Ford squinted at Rick. “Wait, I know you! You’re the guy who was creeping around my house last night!” Ford pushed his jacket back, grabbing at a gun that was strapped to his hip.

Stan intercepted him, latching his fingers around Ford’s wrist. “Ford. Relax.”

“Relax?! You show up out of nowhere, toting this blue-haired weirdo, who knows things he shouldn’t, and you want me to relax?”

Rick stepped forward. “From one scientist to another, your machine was putting out such massive energy readings, I’m surprised you haven’t attracted more attention. Luckily for you, we’re here now and everything will be fine as long as you shut it down.”

“If you’re really a scientist, then you’d know I can’t do that! It’s my life’s work!” He spun towards Stan. “A life I worked very hard for, no thanks to you.”

Stan shook his head. “Still on about that?” He looked at Rick, determined to push past his brother’s stubborn streak for his sake. “Whatever. Have you just been living out here in the woods by yourself all this time?”

“No! At least…not until about two weeks ago. My partner had a bit of an incident and he quit our project. Not that it’s any of your business.” Ford crossed his arms over his chest.

Rick couldn’t help but notice how painstakingly similar the twins were. However, Stan’s shoulders were a bit wider and Stanford was…did he have an extra finger? Ford glared angrily at Rick, who was staring at his six-fingered hands.

“Who was your partner?” Rick asked, ignoring Stanford’s irritated gaze. “He might be able to help us.”

“Fiddleford McGucket. He’s still in town.” Ford’s eyes fell to the floor, a twinge of sadness crossing his face.

“W-w-we can go ask him since you are dead set on being no help at all.” Rick put an arm around Stan, leading him back towards the car. Stanford stared after them. He tried to ignore the powerful discomfort building in his stomach and the strange feeling of being watched. He hadn’t slept more than three hours in the past four days and was barely functioning. He returned to his studies.

“Well, that was a bust,” Rick said once he and Stan had left the shack behind them.

“You think? Did you see that look on his face when he mentioned his partner? Something terrible happened between them and he’s feeling guilty about it.”

“Really?”

Stan nodded, his eyes on the road. “I know my brother.”

“Let’s see if we can’t find this guy. I-it’s a small town so how hard can it be?”

After poking around the town and interrogating locals, Stan and Rick found the only guy whose description met what Stanford had said about his assistant. He had checked into a rentable log cabin on the lake about two weeks ago, and was still hanging around. Normal tourists didn’t stay that long; Rick figured this had to be their guy. After bribing the desk attendant at the cabins, Stan and Rick parked the car and waited.

Stan drifted to sleep while they waited for McGucket to arrive, Rick’s mind was racing far too fast for him to even consider sleeping. He knew Ford was hiding something in that shack of his. And he’d be willing to bet his kidneys that Ford had been conversing with a certain triangle. He recalled the tired look about Ford, especially the dark circles under his eyes. Rick suspected Ford was having nightmares, much like Rick himself was.

A car pulled up next to the log cabin and a thin man with a collared shirt stepped out. Rick smacked Stan in the chest to wake him up.

“Huh? Wasn’t me, I swear!” Stan flailed around before remembering where he was.

“Our guy is here, I think.”

The two got out of the car and intercepted the man as he put his key in the door.

“Can I help you fellas?” He spoke in a friendly manner with a slight southern drawl.

“Are you Fiddleford McGucket?” Rick asked.

“Sure am! What can I do for ya?”

“I’m Rick and this is Lee. We were hoping to ask you some questions about Stanford Pines.”

“Oh sure! Come on in, I hope he’s not in any trouble.”

Stan and Rick exchanged a glance, following the man into the cabin.

The cabin was a fully furnished, two story building, complete with a kitchen and everything. Fiddleford sat the men down at a table and offered to make some coffee, which Rick graciously accepted.

Once Fiddleford was seated, coffee mug in hand, Rick spoke. “What can you tell us about Stanford Pines?”

“Oh, he and I went to college together! Brilliant man. Haven’t seen him in a few years though.” His eyes drifted to Stan. “Say…you’ve got to be his twin brother, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah,” Stan said, scratching the side of his face.

“Wait, did you say you hadn’t seen him in a few years?” Rick stared skeptically at Fiddleford.

“That’s right. We used to be really close in college…wonder whatever happened.” McGucket’s mouth quirked up in a sad smile.

“Could I use your bathroom real quick?” Rick stood, pushing in his chair.

“Yep! It’s upstairs.”

As Rick trotted up the stairs, he heard Stan and Fiddleford talking about Ford’s college years. Once in the loft, Rick began to scramble around, looking for any kind of sign that Ford had been in contact with Fiddleford. In the main bedroom, Rick found blueprints. Complex blueprints. For a machine built to wipe memories. Rick swallowed hard. Had their fallout been that bad? What on Earth had happened between these two?

Rick returned downstairs and McGucket cleared his throat. “This has been a lovely trip down memory lane, but why have y’all come here asking about Stanford?”

“He’s been, uh, working on some things in town here. And he wanted us to come ask you for help. You know how his pride is,” Stan quickly answered.

“Ha, he always was a bit of a hardhead. Does this mean you two made up?”

“I’m doing my best.” Stan gave McGucket a gentle smile.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t hurt to go see what an old friend is up to. Shall we meet up tomorrow for breakfast and then see Stanford?”

“Sure thing,” Rick said. “Diner in town?”

McGucket nodded, standing from the table. Stan and Rick followed suit and he shook their hands. McGucket waved cheerfully as the boys drove away in the Stanleymobile.

“Th-thanks for covering for me back there.” Rick said.

“No problem. I figured we needed to get him out to see Ford, don’t we?”

“Y-yeah. Ford is tampering with forces far beyond his comprehension. But there’s a bit of a problem.”

“I thought so. Why doesn’t he remember working with Ford? Assuming they’re both telling the truth.”

“He’s got a memory erasure machine in his room. I think that he used it to forget whatever made him leave.”

Stan was silent for a moment. “That’s…concerning.”

“Yeah. It must’ve been bad if he wanted to forget it that badly.” Rick subconsciously rubbed an old scar on his arm.

“But hey, let’s worry about this tomorrow. You look like you could use the sleep.” Stan pulled into the motel parking lot.

Rick and Stan entered the room, Stan stripping down to his boxers and flopping face first on the bed. Rick desperately wanted to fall asleep as easily as Stan did, but his dreams were just too loud.

As he suspected he would, Rick had nightmares when he finally fell asleep. Visions of being thrown through his car windshield haunted him. Thoughts of his burning home and breaking through the window to escape the flames lapping at his feet.  Rick woke up with a jolt, still feeling the broken glass embedded in his body. He rolled out of bed and went outside, lighting a cigarette. He raked his fingers through his wild hair, occasionally getting caught on tangles. Rick finished his cigarette and tossed the butt on the pavement. His eyes wandered to the stars, his mind as blank as it could ever be. The door opened beside him, Stan’s sleepy face peering out.

“What are you doing out here, ya weirdo?” He rubbed his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Rick said simply.

“Come back in here, you’ll get eaten alive by mosquitos.” Stan reached out and took Rick’s hand.

Stan hunkered back down in the bed, wrapping Rick in his arms. He curled his fingers in Rick’s hair.

“I’ve always wondered why your hair is blue,” Stan said with a yawn.

“Heh. I had a bit of a lab accident. Didn’t happen all at once, but it just grew in blue from then on. Used to be dark. I had a weird coloration thing for a while.” Rick nestled his face closer to Stan’s chest. Even if he might not sleep, Stan sure was comfortable to lay on. Not even a minute later, Stan’s soft snoring filled the room. Rick’s heavy eyes finally closed, and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, at Greasy’s Diner, Fiddleford happily ate his pancakes while Rick downed cup after cup of coffee. Each time the waitress refilled his mug, Rick would pour a little bit of whiskey in it from his flask. When they were finished eating, Stan and Rick led the way in the Stanleymobile while McGucket followed in his truck.

Fiddleford stepped out of his truck, admiring the shack. “Nice place here! Excellent craftsmanship.”

“Y-y-you want to wait here? We’ll go find Stanford.”

Fiddleford gave a nod of approval as Rick and Stan walked around to the backdoor. Rick tapped lightly on the door, hesitating only a moment before just opening the door anyway. Stanford came pounding down the stairs, wearing a sweater that looked way too heavy for the midsummer weather.

“Why are you two in my house?”

“We brought someone to see you. And whatever the hell you did to him must’ve been pretty bad ‘cause he wiped the whole fuckin thing from his memory,” Rick snapped.

“You…brought Fiddleford? Why?” Ford’s expression changed from anger to disbelief.

“Because you are tampering with forces beyond your understanding. I know you’ve got some kind of machine in this shack, and it’s dangerous. That man out there is proof, isn’t he? What happened? Test run gone wrong? Malfunction? Stop me if I’m wrong here.” Rick stepped closer to Stanford, staring into his eyes challengingly.

“There was an issue with a test. Fidds…uh…fell into the device. He told me to shut it down, but I can’t. He doesn’t know and neither do you! This is going to be a benefit to humanity.” Ford spoke in a way that almost sounded like he was convincing himself as well as Rick.

“Ford! Drop your pride for once in your life. That man ERASED his MEMORY. That’s how bad it was. He doesn’t remember anything about what you two did out here.” Stan’s expression grew angrier as he spoke.

Ford’s eyes widened, his shoulders dropping. “Nothing? At all?”

“Th-the last thing he remembers of you is college,” Rick explained.

“Oh God. I’m an awful friend. Can I see him?”

“Yeah. Just…be careful with what you say. I’m not sure how well that memory thing works.” Rick opened the backdoor, ushering the Pines twins out. Fiddleford leaned against his car in the front of the shack, Ford did his best to keep his expression neutral when he saw him.

“Stanford Pines! Good to see ya old pal!” He crossed the dirt yard, pulling Stanford into a hug. Ford hesitantly wrapped his arms around McGucket in response. “Now, what’s this I hear about a project you’re working on?”

Ford cleared his throat, “Yes. We can, uh, discuss this over a cup of coffee inside, if you’d like.”

“Sound’s great! You actually drink coffee these days or just inject it directly?” He gave Ford a playful nudge with his elbow.

Stanford gave a small laugh, though his eyes looked sad.

The four men sat down at the kitchen table, waiting for the coffee to brew.

“Nice place ya got here! Almost feels like home! You build it?” Fiddleford remarked, looking around the kitchen.

“I hired some local folks to build it. This is the perfect spot for research.” Ford got up, fetching the coffee. When he opened the fridge, Stan could see that there was milk, a few eggs, and not much else in it.

“Jesus, Ford. You been eating?”

“Sometimes,” Ford replied curtly.

McGucket laughed. “You always did work yourself too hard.” Ford handed him a cup of coffee, as well as the cream and sugar. Rick declined the offer; his stomach was still angrily churning from the six cups he’d downed in the diner.

“So what brought you to Gravity Falls, Fiddleford?” Rick asked.

“I’m on vacation here. I was taking a break from work when my wife left me, and I guess I got a little attached to the old place!” He rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly and feigned a lighthearted laugh. “What’s this research you’ve been doing, Stanford?”

“I’ve been studying anomalies. Sightings are quite frequent around here. Would you like to see a little of my research?”

“Well sure!” McGucket stood, pushing in his chair.

Stan and Rick followed the two scientists into Ford’s study. A small couch sat underneath a window, a desk and filing cabinets on the opposite wall.

“Wow Ford! I didn’t take you for much of a decorator!” McGucket exclaimed as he entered the room, observing the treasures and keepsakes lining the walls. Stan and Rick hung back in the entrance. “These things are all so neat and-“ Fiddleford’s eyes fell to a banjo that had been carefully propped up against the wall. “Is…that my banjo?” 

Ford pulled a few red journals out of a desk drawer, spreading them on the table. He didn’t answer Fiddleford.

“Why does all of this look so familiar?” McGucket asked, flipping through the journal that had a large number one painted on it. He froze on a page with a complicated pattern drawn on it. Rick recognized the design as being a part of some blueprints.

“No. No. NO.” Fiddleford backed away from the desk, clutching his head. “This is…I…NO!” He sprinted past Stan and Rick, leaving a broken looking Ford in his wake.

“I was afraid this would happen. Whatever that is just jogged his memory, or at least parts of it.” Rick leaned against the doorframe, staring in the direction Fiddleford had run off in.

“You knew this would happen?! And you brought him here anyway?” Ford lunged at Rick in anger.

Stan grabbed his brother by the front of his shirt. “Don’t you touch him. You brought this on yourself by being a selfish fuck who could never be bothered with other people’s feelings.” Stan’s eyes flashed with anger and hurt.

Ford’s body relaxed; Stan released his grip. Rick sauntered across the room, grabbing the banjo from its resting place.

“I’ll see what I can do to help. Not that I owe you anything.”

Rick rounded the corner in the hallway and disappeared in a flash of green light.

When Rick re-materialized on the front porch, he held an acoustic guitar in one hand and Fiddleford’s banjo in the other. Fiddleford sat on the wooden steps, head in his hands, breathing hard. Rick set down the banjo next to him and sat a few feet away, leaning lazily on a support beam.

He nestled the guitar in his lap and began to tune it, plucking at strings and occasionally reaching up to adjust the tune. The sound of Rick’s guitar seemed to calm McGucket; he picked up the banjo and held it cautiously in his arms.

Rick strummed the guitar. McGucket strummed a response. Rick played a few notes and Fiddleford echoed them back to him. The lower pitch of the guitar was perfectly complemented to the high twang of the banjo. Rick played a more complex riff, then looked up at Fiddleford as he returned the notes. Fiddleford stared absentmindedly at the dirt, his fingers hovering over the strings of his instrument. After a few rounds of the simple back and forth, Rick began to play a more complex, full song. McGucket’s responses picked up in intensity until he wasn’t parroting Rick’s notes anymore, he was playing along. Fiddleford’s speed soon outshone Rick, whose hands fell from the strings in disbelief. He strummed one last chord as Fiddleford wrapped up his tune. He took a deep breath, color had returned to his face and his shoulders no longer shook; he placed the banjo back on the porch.

“Thanks,” He said with a soft smile.

Rick gave him a two fingered salute and hauled himself off of the porch, walking back around to the backdoor of the shack.

 

Stan and Ford stood in uncomfortable silence after Rick left, neither of them sure of what to do.

Finally, clearing his throat, Stanford spoke. “So, um, how have you been?”

“Been fine.”

“How- how did you and Rick meet?” Ford stuttered.

“Was just in the right place at the right time.” Stan turned to face his brother. “Look, I know you’re not happy that I’m here. Neither of us knew who we would find once Rick traced whatever he’s looking for. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as he gives the word.”

Ford stared at Stan, expression blank. “So you’re just following him around like a lost puppy? I thought you were more independent than that.”

“Don’t try to pull that crap on me. What I do is none of your business anymore.” Stan glared at Ford.

Their heads turned in unison as the brothers realized that there was suddenly intense banjo music coming from the front porch. They heard the lower hum of an acoustic guitar playing along.

“What a strange person,” Ford observed.

“Heh, he’s a bit of a mystery,” Stan said fondly.

“Yes. Well I’m going to get some work done. Stay however long you want, or whatever.”

Ford trotted out of the room as the banjo music reached a crescendo, then abruptly halted. After a few moments, the back door opened and shut as Rick returned to the house.

Stan walked into the hallway, almost crashing into Rick.

“That was really something. What did you do?” Stan said with a half-smile.

“Just played. I-i-it used to help me so I figured if he was a musician then it’d help him calm down a bit.” Rick averted his gaze, looking sheepish.

Stan laughed, pulling Rick into his arms. “You are a man of many talents.”

Rick snorted, winding his arms around Stan’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. Stan gently shoved Rick against the wall, pressing into him.

“Stanley, I need to talk to y-” Ford froze and stared at his brother.

Stan jerked away from Rick. “Boy, you are quiet! What ya need?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.” Ford looked at Rick, pointing. “I need answers from you. There are things that don’t add up here.”

“I’ll trade you information then. You show me what you’ve been working on and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Fine.” Ford motioned for Rick to follow him.

Rick turned to Stan. “Will you go check on Fiddleford? I won’t be long.” Stan nodded and Rick pressed his lips to Stan’s temple.

Ford made an impatient sound.

“I’m coming, keep your shirt on.” Rick followed Stanford into the front room of the house, cluttered with specimens, machines, and a large recliner. Ford opened a door in the wall to reveal a stone staircase descending to an elevator.

“Watch your footing. These stairs are a bit tricky.”

Rick followed Stanford down the elevator and into a small control room with a window that showed an enormous triangular machine with a round hole in the center. It loomed ominously over Rick and Ford.

“Holy shit.” Rick stared at the machine from behind the glass. “What’s it do?”

Ford scoffed. “You ask like you don’t know. But it acts as a portal. A punched hole through a weak point in our dimension. It’s going to change lives.” Ford nodded to himself, affirming his statement. “Though I haven’t turned it on since Fiddleford…” He trailed off.

“Good. Y-you should dismantle it. The tear in dimensions is bad enough as it is, but opening it fully is way too dangerous.” Rick’s eyes never left the portal as he spoke.

“How do you know that? How do you know any of this? Why did you come here? I want answers!”

“First, I need to know something. Have you been having bizarre dreams?”

Ford squinted at Rick, taking a step back.

“I’m right aren’t I?”

Ford lunged forward, grabbing the front of Rick’s t-shirt. “Answer me.”

“I know this shit because I made the same mistakes you’re about to!” Rick snarled. “Now put me the fuck down.”

Ford released his grasp on Rick’s shirt, stepping back to give him some space.

“I-I’ve already been here and done that. Only my dimension didn’t survive. So I abandoned ship last minute. Got out.”

Ford was silent.

“I was young and stupid and desperate. When  _ he  _ found me again in this dimension, I knew something was fucky.”

“Who do you mean, ‘He’?”

“You fucking know. That one-eyed evil Dorito! He’s crazy and chaotic. Th-the worst part is that his dimensional selves share memories. You can’t hide from him.”

Ford stared at the machine’s control panel, silent. “How do I know you’re not lying about him and your dimension?”

“Ugh, hang on.” Rick darted into the elevator, not wanting Ford to see his portal gun directly. He didn’t think that Stanford could be trusted with Rick’s advanced tech yet. Not even a minute later, he returned holding a helmet attached to a screen.

“What’s that?” Ford asked, curiosity piqued.

“Memory machine. Scans your thoughts, they show up here. I’ll show you my memories of what happened and you can see for yourself.”

“How can I trust that what you’re showing me is actually your memories?” Ford squinted at Rick. 

“Fine, try it yourself.”

Ford cautiously put on the helmet; Rick turned the machine on. On the screen, in perfect detail, was the exact moment Ford’s life had begun to crumble. Testing the machine with Fiddleford. He saw his six-fingered hands holding the crash dummy, throwing it into the portal. He felt the same panic when the rope became tangled around Fiddleford’s body, sucking him in. Ford’s hands balled into fists as he desperately tried to push down the panic rising in his throat.

Rick’s eyes were locked on Ford more than the machine.

Ford saw himself pull McGucket from the portal; he threw the helmet off.

“Okay, I believe you, this machine works. Now what do you know about Bill?” he huffed.

Rick put on the helmet and sat down on a chair, facing away from the machine. He looked bored.

The screen flickered to life, showing an enormous machine with crisscrossing wires and a countdown clock. The machine seemed to be sitting on a makeshift platform in the middle of the beach.

_ Is that a bomb? _ Ford wondered to himself.

The Rick in the memory ran back, crouching behind a concrete barrier that Ford doubted would do him much good. As the countdown hit zero, a powerful suction pulled sand and palm trees towards the machine. Rick’s hand closed tightly on the concrete barrier. A forceful shockwave radiated out from the machine, throwing Rick backwards into the sand. A huge multicolored rift opened in the sky.

Ford watched in shock.

A triangle in a top hat exited the portal, flesh creeping over its form, solidifying. Rick felt the fear creep into his throat, just like it had back then.

“Thanks for the help, Sanchez! You don’t have to worry about this world anymore!” The demon laughed a psychotic, echoing laugh. Monsters and all types of misshapen creatures poured from the tear behind Bill. 

Memory Rick turned and ran.

Rick took the helmet off and stood. Ford stared at the now blank screen, stunned.

“Told you.”

Ford didn’t reply. He just looked up at Rick.

“I was a desperate man. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.” Rick’s voice was a flat monotone. “Keep this between us, alright? I don’t want Lee to know.”

“I’m sorry,” Ford said; he couldn’t think of anything better to say.

Rick just shrugged. “I hope you’ll think about taking this thing apart now.” He headed back up the stairs, leaving Ford standing in his lab. Rick paused at the top of the stairs; he took a deep breath to mentally stabilize himself. He needed a drink. Remembering that he had refilled his flask recently, Rick pulled it out of his pocket and downed the entirety of the container. Ford came up the stairs just as Fiddleford and Stan entered the kitchen. He brushed past Rick, attempting to give him a look of sympathy. Rick followed him into the kitchen without a word.

“Fiddleford. Are you…doing all right?” Ford looked concerned.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“I’ve…cut the power lines to the machine. I don’t know if that makes up for what I did.”

“Ford. I won’t lie. I really don’t remember much about however long we were up here together. I just have…feelings. I don’t think I could describe what I felt when I saw those blueprints. There’s just gaps…” His hands shook slightly.

“I am so sorry Fiddleford. Your friendship means more to me than anything ever could. I see that now.”

“You’re alright with me not remembering?”

“Yes. I was unfair to you, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to help.”

“Thank you Stanford. All I really ask is that you be patient with me.” Fiddleford gave Ford a sad smile.

“Of course.”

Fiddleford pulled Stanford into a hug, wrapping his long arms around his friend’s shoulders.

When he pulled away, Ford looked on the verge of tears, yet he was smiling.

“Though, could I ask one more favor?” Fiddleford asked.

“Anything.”

“Could I move back in here? I don’t really have anywhere to go.” McGucket gave a rueful smile, thinking about his now ex-wife.

Ford’s face lightened. “Of course. You're always welcome.”

“Hey Fidd,” Stan interjected. “You want some help to move your things? You had a lot in that cabin.”

“That would be wonderful, Stanley. And now it makes sense why I had all that stuff!” Fiddleford gave a light chuckle.

“And I’m not sure where you two are staying-” Ford turned to Stan and Rick, “-but you could stay here for a little while. It’d be better than a motel or something.”

Rick looked at Stan, who shrugged.

“Sure. W-we can stick around for a few days.”

Ford nodded, unsure of why he had offered. Maybe he felt bad for Rick? He still wasn’t on good terms with his brother, but Ford suspected that he had some thinking to do after what Rick had shown him.

Stan wrapped an arm around Rick’s waist, feeling as though something was off. They headed out to the car to drive to McGucket’s cabin.

While Stan helped McGucket carry suitcases full of clothes out to his car, Rick packed up the bedroom. He shoveled blueprints and papers full of calculations into a briefcase that Fiddleford had given him. As he stuffed another stack of papers into the case, one flew from his grasp, landing under the bed. Rick crouched down to find the paper…and something else. Stashed under the bed was a strange device with an enormous lightbulb on the end. Rick’s eyes widened as he recognized it as the memory gun. His fingers gingerly curled around it.

It was so…enticing. Rick had once been given an empty promise to erase his bad memories, but here was an opportunity right in front of him. He stared, entranced, until he heard Stan calling him from downstairs. Rick hurriedly threw the rest of Fiddleford’s belongings in the briefcase and stowed the memory gun in a plastic grocery bag.

Rick trotted downstairs, then out the door. He threw the briefcase into Fiddleford’s car, and the memory gun under the backseat of the Stanleymobile.

“I can take care of unpacking, boys,” Fiddleford said with a smile. “Thanks for your help. With everything.”

“No problem, man. Happy to help.” Rick returned the smile.

Fiddleford drove away and Stan and Rick went back to the motel to pack up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See also: Dueling Banjos, Deliverance OST as my inspiration for the music scene


	7. Pretty Lies

Rick sat on the edge of the bed, watching Stan procrastinate on picking his things up off the motel room floor. He lifted his refilled flask to his mouth while he observed, having already finished packing. Stan gave the room a last once-over then turned to Rick.

“Ready to go?” Rick asked.

“Not yet.” Stan sat down beside Rick, pulling him onto his lap. Rick straddled him, Stan’s thick arms around his waist to steady him.

“Are you feeling okay? You seem a little off,” Stan looked up at Rick with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Rick tried for a  smile.

Stan looked unamused; he didn’t buy it. “You sure? You were fine before you ran off with my brother.”

Rick wouldn’t look at Stan.

“If you did my brother I’m gonna be  _ real  _ upset.”

Rick snorted. “Nah, you’re the only Pines for me.” Rick took a deep breath and rested his forehead on Stan’s. “I-I’ve done some really bad shit in my life, Lee. I’m not a good person.”

“Neither am I. But you’re good to me and that’s what matters. Though…does this have anything to do with how we ended up in Gravity Falls?”

Rick hesitated. “Yeah. Just some old mistakes coming back to bite me in the ass.” Rick’s shoulders stiffened. He wanted Stan to drop it.

“Well, I’m here for you.” Stan nuzzled his face into Rick’s neck. Instead of giving a response, Rick just smiled. “But when you’re ready to tell me what’s really going on...I’ll be here to listen.”

Rick pressed a gentle kiss to Stan’s lips and crawled off his lap.

“Come on. Let’s head back to the house,” Rick said gently.

Picking up the bags, the two men climbed into the Stanleymobile and headed towards Ford’s house. They found Fiddleford and Stanford sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea in a comfortable silence.

“Well, isn’t this cute,” Rick said, entering the kitchen.

“There y’all are. Will you boys be alright in the attic room? I’ll have to move the beds apart.”

“W-we can share.” Rick wrapped an arm around a blushing Stan.

“Oh! Well I’ll get the sheets put on for ya.” Fiddleford trotted up the stairs, leaving Stanford alone with Stan and Rick.

“Would either of you like some coffee?” Ford asked.

“I-I’ll take some.” Rick meandered over to the coffee machine and prepared a cup.

Stan sat down across from his brother. Ford leaned over and whispered to Stan, “I…didn’t know you, um, swung that way.”

Stan shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t think I did either.”

Rick turned his head over his shoulder. “My sex appeal transcends gender.”

Ford blushed at his inability to whisper; Stan blushed because Rick was right.

“UM. Well I’m gonna try to get some sleep. It’s been a few days.” Ford laughed nervously and walked upstairs.

Rick sat down next to Stan and poured some whiskey in his coffee.

“You’ve gotta be tired too. When was the last time YOU slept?” Stan raised an eyebrow at Rick, who shrugged.

“I sleep sometimes. You know, here and there.”

“Well do you mind if I go to bed then?” Stan asked with a yawn.

“Go for it.”

Stan smiled and kissed Rick’s forehead. “Just come on up when you’re ready. Goodnight Rick.”

Rick gave Stan a half-smile as he left the kitchen. He let out a sigh. After he heard Stan’s footsteps cease, Rick pulled himself out of his chair and walked out to the car. He rummaged around under the backseat until his fingers closed around the plastic bag he had wrapped the memory gun in.

Rick returned to the house, to the cluttered front room. Descending from the ceiling was a ladder that Rick assumed went to the roof. Upon climbing it and opening a trap door, he found that he was right. A small ledge jutted from the roof to create a platform. Rick sat, leaning against the sloped roof behind him. He pulled the machine from the bag and held it delicately in his hands. It had a certain…elegance to the design that Rick’s inventions seemed to lack. The exterior was a polished bronze and a large, oddly shaped lightbulb was fitted onto the end.

Curious, Rick pulled a small screwdriver from his pocket and unscrewed the screen above the handle. He gingerly pulled the screen away, careful not to damage the wires. It was beautifully engineered. He’d seen the aftermath of it; Rick knew this thing worked. But was it worth it? Fiddleford seemed to have retained the emotions associated with the event without remembering the details. Though his memory had been jogged. Who would he be without those memories?

_ Is the person that I am even worth saving?  _ Rick thought to himself.

He screwed the screen back on as he heard voices leaking from a window below him. Rick scooted to the edge of the roof to hear better.

“-something I need to tell you,” Fiddleford spoke softly.

“What is it Fiddleford? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah. There’s just something that’s been on my mind. I…can’t remember much of what we’ve done in Gravity Falls but there’s one feeling I just can’t shake.”

“Yes?” Rick could practically hear Ford blushing.

“I think I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a long time. I don’t really know if you feel the same way at all but I needed to get that off my chest.”

There was a pause, then the sound of footsteps.  “I…never knew. I always thought we were just friends. I mean, you were married.”

“Yeah.” Fiddleford sounded sad.

“But, that means I don’t have to convince myself that I’m not in love with you too. I probably don’t deserve you after what I did, but…”

The sound of Ford’s voice was muffled by what Rick assumed to be an embrace. “Thank you for letting me get that off my chest. Goodnight Stanford.”

“Goodnight Fiddleford.”

Rick smiled. Some nerve Ford had, getting all uppity on his brother for liking men. Or maybe he was just surprised they had that in common. Either way, Stanford and McGucket were happy. Their happiness caused a swirl of emotions to stir in Rick. 

_ I came to this dimension, saved it, and got my fresh start, right? So why do I feel so awful? _ He appraised the memory gun that was still clenched in his hand. Standing, he hurled it into the woods before he could do something stupid. Instead, he took a long drink from his flask and went back inside to lay down without sleeping.

At breakfast the next morning, Rick looked only slightly less exhausted than Ford, while Stan and Fiddleford were almost downright chipper.

“You need any help with breakfast, Fiddleford?” Stan offered, starting to get out of his chair.

“Nope! I reckon I’m all set. We’re having omelets and toast because  _ someone _ -” Fiddleford glanced at Stanford, “-forgot to buy groceries since he won’t eat unless someone tells him to.”

Ford shrugged. “At least the stuff in the fridge isn’t expired. Give me some credit.”

Fiddleford laughed. “I suppose so. You boys want anything to drink?”

“Just water is fine,” said Stan.

“Y-you got any alcohol?” Rick ran his fingers through his hair. He’d emptied the flask again last night.

Stan snorted and wrapped his arms around Rick. “I’d ask if it’s a little too early for booze, but it never is with you.” He pressed his face against Rick’s neck, kissing it gently.

Stanford made an exaggerated sound of disgust. “How about bleach?”

“Juice for Rick and Ford it is then!” Fiddleford said, decisively.

“Wh-what, not even coffee?” Rick protested.

“You two insomniacs don’t need caffeine, you need sleep! Y’all are gonna get sick.”

Ford shrugged and Rick rolled his eyes. Fiddleford sat a few plates full of food on the table.

“Hey Rick, we’ve got nothing better to do. We should go to the grocery store.” Stan looked to his companion for approval.

“Sure.”

“Great!” Fiddleford chimed in. “I’ll make a grocery list.”

“Gee Fidds, you’re quite the housewife! Stanford here sure is lucky to have you,” Rick teased.

Ford’s face flushed.

“Aw it’s nothin’. I took care of my siblings growing up so it’s practically second nature. Plus, this knucklehead would work himself into the ground if he didn’t have someone looking out for him.” McGucket placed a reassuring hand on Ford’s shoulder and sat down to eat.

After breakfast and a shower, Rick and Stan headed to the only grocery store in town. Stan parked the car and grabbed a cart, tossing the list in the front basket.

“Hey, i-i-if I sit in the cart, will you push me?” Rick grabbed hold of the metal handle.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Stan replied.

“Damn it.” Rick pouted.

Stan filled the cart with the items on Fiddleford’s list while Rick stocked up on alcohol.

When Rick came back with five bottles of cheap liquor, Stan stared at him incredulously.

“Do you need all of those?”

“Yes,” Rick answered without hesitation.

“Man, it is a miracle your liver still works.” Stan laughed as Rick placed the bottles in the cart.

“Hardest working liver in the galaxy!” Rick proclaimed proudly.

“Alright you dork, I think we’ve got everything. Let’s get going.”

Rick and Stan loaded the groceries in the car and returned to the shack.

Fiddleford and Stanford were pouring over some newspapers and gritty photos when the grocery-laden trouble makers returned.

“I told you I could make it all in one trip!” Rick stuck his tongue out at Stan.

“You left the booze in the car! If you had it, you never would have made it.”

Fiddleford jumped from his chair to alleviate Rick of the bags. He sorted through the bags, stacking things neatly in cupboards and the fridge.

“Fiddleford. Have you noticed that you remember exactly where everything goes in this kitchen?” Ford observed.

“Oh, huh. I suppose I do.” He laughed a little. “Couldn’t forget your obsessive organization system!” Fiddleford turned to Stan and Rick. “So Ford and I have something we’d like to investigate down at the lake and we-”

“Wait, what?” Ford interjected.

McGucket cleared his throat. “ _ I  _ was wondering if you’d like to come along. See a bit of this lovely valley?”

Stan glanced at Rick, shrugging. He knew  _ he  _ didn’t have plans, nor anything better to do.

“Okay. Yeah, sure.” Rick trotted upstairs to retrieve his duffel bag. If there was going to be some down time, he might as well bring something to keep him entertained. The bag was full of machine parts and a bottle of scotch. The perfect distraction.

Once at the lake, Ford and McGucket began to set up sensors in the shallows for them to monitor lake activity. Stan parked himself under a shady tree; he tended to burn like a redhead in direct sunlight. Rick sidled up next to him, tinkering with parts and stopping occasionally to take a long drink of shitty scotch.

Laying in the warm northwestern sun, close to Stan, Rick’s eyes began to droop. Stan noticed Rick beginning to drift off and he adjusted his position to allow Rick to lay on his lap. Rick fell asleep, unobstructed by caffeine.

Rick heard a far off laugh, one lacking any kind of joy. A psychotic laugh. A  _ familiar _ psychotic laugh. Rick opened his eyes to see the world in which he had fallen asleep, frozen and gray. Out of the lake rose Bill, looking displeased.

“Oh Rick. Ever the thorn in my side, aren’t you? You might have saved this silly little dimension for now, but you’ll never be able to run from what you really are. You think these people honestly care about you? They only want to use you. Ol’ Sixer just wants to steal your technology. And poor, poor Stan Pines. His inferiority issues will ensure that he is devastated when you eventually ruin this. Just like you ruin everything you touch. You’ll still die alone. Just like I promised. And with you gone, who will stop me?” Bill laughed again. A spear of energy manifested over his shoulder, launching itself through Rick’s torso, pinning him to the ground.

Rick awoke with a jerk, pulling himself into a sitting position and clutching at his stomach. For a brief second, Rick’s pupils were thin slits. He spun around to see a startled and worried looking Stan. Rick’s shoulders heaved with his uneven breath. He thought he might throw up.

“Are you okay?” Stan reached out a hand to Rick.

Rick scooted away in panic, his eyes wild. “Yeah. I just…need a second.”

Stan’s hand hovered in midair as Rick walked down to the lake. He dipped his hand in the water and rubbed it on his face. Ripples obscured his reflection, but Rick imagined he looked absolutely insane.

He went back to Stan and sat down.

“Where’s the scotch?” Rick’s eyes darted around in search of the bottle.

“I dunno. But you don’t look good. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, I’m all good. Just nightmares as usual.” He tried to brush it off.

“Is it alright for me to touch you now?”

“Uh, yeah it’s okay.” Rick was a little taken aback by the question, but it was probably a good idea.

Stan hesitantly slid an arm around Rick’s waist. “You know, sometimes it’s, uh, better to talk about stuff. Just so it’s not eating ya from the inside.” Stan struggled to comfort Rick.

“I made a bad deal once. Really got me all sorts of fucked up. Still dream about it.” Rick’s gaze was locked on the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stan.  _ He’s such a gentle guy, he shows me more kindness than I could ever deserve. And what if I really do fuck this up? Stan deserves better than me. _

Stan shifted his hold on Rick, burying his fingers in his hair and scratching his head. Rick’s mind went blank as Stan’s fingers ran across his scalp.

“Mm…that feels nice,” he murmured.

“Just relax, okay? Take it easy.”

Rick closed his eyes and leaned into Stan’s hand. At the very least, he could pretend like everything was fine for a little while.

Back at the house, late at night, Rick was the only one still awake. Even Ford had managed to fall asleep. Desperate for some rest, Rick brought out his last resort: sleeping pills. They knocked him out hard and fast. He didn’t like using them, though it almost always meant dreamless sleep, something he was craving. Rick took only one, remembering the bad experience of taking two, and settled in next to Stan. He quickly drifted off. 

Rick was awakened by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. He peeled his eyes open and was greeted by the soft gray light of a rainy morning. Rick rubbed at his eyes and sat up on his elbows to look towards the source of the sound. Standing in the doorframe was Stan, holding a plate of food. Rick blinked a few times to clear his vision as Stan walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Heh, good morning.” Stan rested the plate on his lap.

Rick groaned. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. I’m not usually up before you so I made breakfast.”

Rick looked down at the plate to see perfect fluffy pancakes and bacon.

“You can cook?” Rick looked up at Stan incredulously, sitting up in the bed.

“Only like, four things,” Stan replied, his face turning pink.

Rick stuffed part of a pancake in his mouth and gave an exaggerated moan of pleasure. “These are amazing.”

Stan just laughed, smiling gently at Rick as he wolfed down the pancakes.

_ This is so perfect,  _ Rick thought to himself. He felt well rested and had woken up to breakfast; for today, nothing else mattered.

As Rick finished his food and set the plate back on his lap, Stan gave a soft chuckle. “You’ve got a little syrup right…there.” Stan leaned forward and licked a drop of syrup off the corner of Rick’s mouth.

Rick was silent. He slowly placed his plate on the nightstand before wrapping his arms around Stan’s neck and pulling him into a rough kiss. Stan laughed into the kiss, turning his body for a better angle. Rick nipped at Stan’s lips.

“Ah wait, wait. This position sucks.” Stan laughed softly and climbed onto the bed, pulling Rick into his lap. Rick craned his head down to suck roughly at Stan’s throat. Rick left love bites and bruises scattered across the delicate skin. Stan’s fingers curled tightly in the back of Rick’s shirt, trying to keep quiet.

“Hey. I’d like to try something,” Stan whispered hesitantly, his mouth on Rick’s neck.

Rick nodded wordlessly as Stan kneeled on the floor, pulling Rick to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Rick lifted his hips to allow Stan to pull his underwear off.

“If you have any, um, pointers you’d like to give me, that would be great.” Stan wrapped his hand around Rick’s cock and began slowly stroking his shaft.

“Start off with y-your tongue and be really careful with the teeth.” Stan smiled nervously and grazed his teeth against Rick’s inner thigh. Rick drew in a shuddering breath, biting his lip.

Stan scooted a little closer to Rick; he slowly ran his tongue over the head of Rick’s cock.

“Good. Just -ah- take it slow, go at y-y-your own pace.” Rick gripped the bedsheets to resist the urge to tangle his fingers in Stan’s shaggy hair.

Stan took the tip of Rick’s cock into his mouth, bobbing his head slightly as he sucked. He tried to remember what Rick had done. Stan stroked Rick’s shaft in unison with the movement of his head.

“Ah fuck,” Rick said, his voice a little too loud.

“Hey, keep it down, will ya? My brother is downstairs.” He took more of Rick’s cock into his mouth.

Rick let out another loud groan, biting his lip and peering down at Stan. 

“Fuck you Rick,” Stan said, despite the smile creeping across his face.

“That’s the idea!” Rick raised an eyebrow and smiled devilishly. 

Stan licked from the base of Rick’s shaft to the head of his dick, his eyes half closed. 

“Ugh Lee. Get up here and fuck me already.”

Stan stood, shoving Rick back onto the bed, so that just his legs were hanging off. He grabbed the lube out of Rick’s bag, which sat right in front of the nightstand. He squirted some onto his fingers and prodded at Rick’s ass. Rick sucked in air through his teeth as Stan slid two fingers inside Rick. Rocking his hips, Rick moved in sync with the pumping of Stan’s fingers. Stan slid in a third finger.

“You ready?” Stan asked, breath uneven.

Rick nodded, murmuring something unintelligible.

Stan pulled his dick out through the flap in his boxers. Then, throwing Rick’s leg over his shoulder, Stan rubbed some more lube onto his cock. He started out slowly, pushing just the tip inside and shallow fucking Rick. Color rose to Rick’s cheeks as the tension and anticipation rose up inside him. Rick opened his mouth to say something right as Stan thrusted the full length of his cock into Rick’s ass.

Rick let out a loud yelp of surprise.

Stan’s strong hands gripped Rick’s slender waist, pulling him closer. Rick sat up, looping his arms underneath Stan’s, latching onto Stan’s back with his fingernails. Stan could feel Rick’s hot breath on his ear; Rick’s teeth sunk into Stan’s shoulder. In surprise, Stan thrusted his hips forward with greater force. Rick groaned. Stan began to pick up speed, practically lifting Rick up and onto him.

“F-f-fuck,” Rick stammered, his mind starting to go blank. He forced his hips forward, urging Stan deeper inside of him. Stan’s fingertips dug roughly into Rick’s waist. The heat that had been building in Rick’s stomach released suddenly as he came across Stan’s stomach and chest.

Stan gave a low growl as he followed Rick.

As his mind cleared, Stan gently lowered Rick down onto the bed, panting.

Rick’s shoulders heaved with his breathing. “W-why did you keep y-your boxers on?”

Stan looked down at himself. “I’m really not sure. In the heat of the moment I forgot, I guess. You just looked so damn hot.” Stan smirked and stooped over to press a kiss to Rick’s lips.

Rick wiped some of the cum off of his chest. “Shower with me?” He stared up at Stan with pleading eyes.

“How can I say no to that face?” The pair half-jogged across the hall to the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

“Y-you gonna take off your boxers this time?” Rick teased.

Stan snorted and pulled his underwear off. He turned on the water. Rick stepped into the shower, Stan close behind him.

As they stood face-to-face, Rick looked up and down Stan’s body appraisingly. “Hm. We appear to be naked. Y-you up for a round two?”

“What? How are you horny again?” Stan asked.

Rick shrugged, trying to keep the smile off of his face. “I brought the shower lube!”

“Where were you keeping that?”

Rick shrugged again, then wrapped his arms around Stan’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. As Rick parted his lips, Stan pulled away slightly.

“You’re lucky that you’re cute.” Stan smiled before returning Rick’s kiss. Rick’s tongue parted Stan’s lips, deepening their kiss. Stan spread his large fingers across Rick’s back; Rick gripped Stan’s ass cheek. Rick sucked on Stan’s tongue and he moaned into the kiss. When Stan felt a light pressure massaging his entrance, he jumped.

“What? Too soon?” Rick asked.

“Uh…”

“I-is that a yes or a no? Should I keep going?”

“I was, uh, not expecting that.”

“Y-you wanna give it a try?” Rick raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe? Take it slow and uh, be gentle.”

Rick did his best to wipe the sly expression off of his face. Using his free hand, Rick pulled Stan down into a kiss. Stan’s body relaxed as he got back into the rhythm of kissing Rick again. Rick’s hand shifted to behind Stan’s back; the pop of the lube cap echoed around the bathroom.

Rick felt Stan’s body tense up again as Rick’s cold fingers slid down his backside.

“Just relax. I-i-it’ll feel a lot better that way.” Rick looked into Stan’s eyes, reassuring him.

Stan just nodded and buried his face in Rick’s neck, gently sucking on his collarbone. Stan felt Rick’s long finger gently poking at his ass, slick with lube. Stan bit down on Rick’s shoulder as his finger slipped inside Stan.

“I-is this alright?” Rick asked, pumping his finger slowly.

“Y-yeah it’s...okay,” Stan stammered.

Rick gave a slight nod and began to move his finger a little bit faster, a little bit harder. Stan let out a soft grunt as Rick pressed against a sensitive spot.

“Oh, was that good?” Rick asked coyly.

“Don’t patronize me,” Stan huffed.

Rick’s finger pressed against Stan’s prostate again, this time a little more forcefully.

“I’m sorry, wh-what was that? You were saying?”

“Two can play at this game you little shit.” Stan grabbed the lube from the shower shelf and squirted some on his fingers. Without messing around, Stan grabbed Rick’s ass with one hand, spreading his cheeks apart, and roughly inserted two fingers inside Rick.

Rick gasped softly then furrowed his brow, determined. He pushed another finger inside Stan.

Stan made an awkward whimpering noise in surprise. He couldn’t find the power to put a third finger into Rick, it was too much.

Suddenly, the hot water, which had been nearing lukewarm, plummeted in temperature.

“SHIT.” Rick pulled his fingers out and reached around Stan to shut the water off. “Not dealing with that.”

“Nope,” Stan confirmed. “But I’m not gonna let that stop me.” Stan pumped his fingers in and out of Rick, prompting Rick to line his cock up next to Stan’s, wrapping his long fingers around both. He began to jerk them off in unison, their cocks hard and hot. Stan bit down on his lip, stifling a moan. With his free hand, Stan reached up and tangled his fingers in Rick’s hair, pulling him forward into a kiss. Stan could taste syrup on Rick’s lips as his tongue slipped into Rick’s mouth. Rick roughly sucked and bit at Stan’s lips, stroking their cocks even faster as desire rose in his throat.

“You like that?” Stan teased.

“Y-y-you know it. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Good. Because I am going to  _ ruin  _ you. I am going to fuck you until you can’t remember your name.”

Rick turned around, bracing his arms on the shower wall. Stan inserted his fingers into Rick one last time as he lubed himself up. He spread Rick’s ass with one hand, the other guiding his cock into Rick’s ass. Rick gasped at the first thrust of Stan’s hips, the thickness of his cock surprised Rick every time. Rick arched his back, rocking his hips back into Stan. Rick started to reach for his own cock with one hand, only to have Stan pin it back to the wall.

“You’re not allowed to do that just yet.” Stan sucked a bruise into the crook of Rick’s neck.

Rick started to say something but it turned into a groan after Stan roughly thrusted into him.

“Please,” Rick begged, now beyond having any dignity. “Just let me…ah!” Stan pushed the entire length of his shaft inside Rick, cutting him off.

Smiling to himself, Stan let a hand slide from Rick’s waist around to his cock. He jerked Rick off in time with the movements of his hips. Rick didn’t think he would last much longer, not with Stan’s thick hand around his cock and teeth grazing his shoulder. Stan felt heat building in his stomach, the feeling of Rick around his cock was too perfect to hold on for much longer. He gripped Rick’s hip hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises as he came. Rick pushed his hips back on Stan as he followed.

Stan slid himself out of Rick’s ass and reached for the towels. He handed one to Rick who took it with a shaking hand. He leaned his back against the shower wall, panting. Stan leaned forward to kiss Rick, his heart still racing. The two men stepped out of the shower and dried themselves.

“That was…amazing,” Stan said breathlessly.

Rick nodded, looking at Stan as he rubbed the towel through his hair. “But let me get this straight, when it’s my ass, anything goes, right? But y-you almost lost it at one finger!”

“I’m new to this! Give me a break.” Stan laughed.

“What was it you said? ‘Please be gentle’? Your dick was literally just in my ass.”

“Shut the hell up.” Stan shoved Rick playfully. “Let’s get dressed.”

Downstairs, Fiddleford stood over the stove, busily managing several pots and pans. Rick and Stan came trotting down the stairs. As the pair entered the kitchen, Ford noticed bruises and bite marks scattered across both of their necks. He shuddered, pushing thoughts of the two of them out of his mind. That would also explain the noises he’d heard.

“What ya making Fidds?” Stan peered over Fiddleford’s shoulder while Rick poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Pot roast, mac and cheese, and cornbread! It’s rainin’ out so it’s the perfect weather for some southern comfort food,” he replied excitedly.

“Oh Fidds, y-you are truly a gift.” Rick wrapped an arm around Fiddleford’s shoulder, leaning into him.

“Aw it’s nothing really. Though I do need to make a store run, could one of you watch this sauce? It needs to thicken up but it’s real easy to burn.”

“I’ll do it,” Stan offered.

“Great! Thanks, Stanley.” Fiddleford pulled on a raincoat from a hook near the door and Ford jumped up, his eyes darting between Stan and Rick.

“I’ll come too. There’s a few things I need,” he said hurriedly.

Ford darted out the door, close behind Fiddleford as they scurried through the rain to the car.

Stan stirred the sauce as a comfortable silence filled the room. Rick rested his chin on Stan’s shoulder, bored. He closed his eyes and leaned into Stan.

Stan chuckled softly. “You seem like you’re in a good mood. How are you today?”

“I’m alright,” Rick replied.  _ I just want to pretend like everything is fine for now,  _ he thought.

“You sure?” He reached up to Rick’s head and buried his fingers in his hair, scratching gently.

Rick just groaned happily as Stan ran his fingers through Rick’s hair.

“Jeez, you’re like a puppy!” Stan laughed. In response, Rick bit Stan’s ear softly.

Rick spent his time trying to distract Stan from the cooking; he was bored.

“Fiddleford didn’t say anything about what to do when this was done. It’s looking pretty thick.”

“I’ll tell ya what else is thick.” Rick leaned into Stan. When Stan shot him a look he waggled his eyebrows in response.

“You’re an idiot.” Stan laughed.

Rick’s brows furrowed and he turned his head to the back door. “Do you hear that? There’s something scrabbling around outside.”

“Go look.” Stan nudged Rick toward the door with his elbow.

Rick opened the door and walked along the porch to the corner of the house. Buried in the trash can were four tiny men with pointy hats. Rick shrugged and went back inside.

“Ford’s got gnomes in his garbage.”

“What?!” Stan’s jaw dropped.

“I-I’ve seen weirder shit.” Rick opened the fridge door and rooted around for something to drink. He produced a bottle of beer as McGucket’s car pulled back into the driveway.

Rick opened the door. “Yo, Ford! You got gnomes in your trashcan,” he yelled.

“Again?!” Ford sprang out of the passenger seat and ran towards the gnomes, managing to kick one into the woods. Another jumped at him, he batted it away with the back of his hand. The tiny men scampered into the woods on all fours.

Fiddleford stepped out of the truck, looking nervous.

“Heh, you -uh- get ‘em all?” His face looked shiny with sweat.

“Oh Fiddleford!” Ford ran to his side. “It’s okay, they’re gone.” Fiddleford nodded silently and walked to the kitchen to relieve Stan of kitchen duty. Rick raised an eyebrow at Ford from the porch.

Ford crossed the yard to where Rick was standing. “Fiddleford…hasn’t had the best experiences with the supernatural. We’ve had some really close calls.” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable.

Rick shrugged and went back inside.

Fiddleford kept everyone in the house busy with helping him prepare dinner. Stan made a pound cake, Rick washed dishes as they were done being used, and Ford set the table and did his best to stay out of the way.

Stanford didn’t have much in terms of serving dishes so Fiddleford left things on the stove to allow people to fill their plates.

After retrieving food, everyone sat down to eat. Rick couldn’t help but notice that they almost looked like a family. Fidds was an amazing cook; everything tasted perfect.

Stan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had food this good. And he certainly couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten dinner with his brother. It felt nice. Stan and Rick made pleasant conversation across the table about some of the things Ford and Fidds had done. Ford talked about anomalies while Fiddleford talked about his inventions. Halfway through a story about winning a robot fight in college, Fiddleford seemed to remember something embarrassing and whispered to Ford about a mechanical pterodactyl. Ford snickered but did not choose to share the story.

After dinner, Fiddleford opened the fridge and pulled out two glass jars with metal lids. Rick’s eyes lit up.

“Do not tell me th-that is real southern moonshine.”

Fiddleford nodded smugly. “We should bust these bad boys open, don’t you think?”

And so, all four men sat on the porch and Fiddleford poured some into glasses. Normally, one would just pass the jar around, but Ford insisted everyone use a separate glass. 

“What’s the matter Ford? Scared of some little germs?” Rick teased. 

Fiddleford accommodated Ford anyway, pouring individual glasses. 

They clinked their glasses together and everyone drank.

“Wow, this stuff is great, Fidds!” Rick exclaimed while Ford coughed.

Fiddleford looked over at his friend. “He’s not good with alcohol.”

Stan laughed at his brother.

Fiddleford poured Rick and Stan some more. Determined not to look like a chicken, Ford stuck his glass out as well, earning him a curious look from Fiddleford.

“You sure, Stanford?”

Ford nodded, his lips pressed together in a line. He threw back the drink and scrunched his face in an attempt to not cough. Rick and Stan laughed at him.

As the night went on, Fiddleford and Rick took primary responsibility for finishing the moonshine.

Ford’s face was flushed and he looked like he was about to fall asleep.

Fiddleford took notice of him and stood. “Well it’s lookin’ like Stanford’s bedtime. This has been fun y’all.” His southern accent had become more prominent as the night had gone on.

“W-w-wait I gotta…I gotta ask you guys a question.” Rick stood up and put his arm around Fiddleford, who had propped up Stanford. “We are a bunch of very attractive people…”

“Nope! I’m not interested.” Ford tried to walk away.

“Aw you didn’t let me finish.”

Ford sighed. “Fine, please continue.”

“W-would anyone be interested in a four-way?” Rick burped.

“Oh my god!” Ford threw his hands in the air and walked towards the door.

Rick turned his head to Fiddleford and raised an eyebrow.

“I think I’ll take a rain check on this one,” he replied. Fiddleford went inside to make sure that Stanford made it to bed safely.

Stan looped an arm around Rick’s waist. “Don’t worry. I’ve still got you.”

“Thanks, Lee.” Rick patted Stan’s face affectionately as he ushered him inside.

Rick nestled down beside Stan in the bed. Ideally, nightmares wouldn’t find him and he could continue his façade of everything being okay. 

Luck was not on his side tonight. Rick dreamt that he was chained to the ground in glowing blue shackles. He was on his knees, his face turned upwards to a dark sky.

A shrill voice echoed around Rick. “AW LOOK. AREN’T YOU A CUTE LITTLE HOUSEPET?” Bill appeared in front of Rick, floating in front of his face. “YOU’VE EVEN GOT THE COLLAR TO MATCH YOUR NEW DOMESTIC LIFE.” Bill shot out his hand; a shackle clamped over Rick’s neck. “How’s your new master been treating you? He been keeping you in line? He should be. You are a walking disaster. Maybe you and I are more alike than you’d think.” Bill’s volume lowered to a tolerable level.

“I-I’m not letting you get inside my head again.” Rick’s voice was strained, choked by the collar around his neck.

“I think I already am!” Bill laughed at his own joke. “But by all means, run away like a coward. Tear this meat-sack’s life apart. Your feeble human emotions are hilarious!.”

Rick’s eyes dropped to the floor, away from Bill.

“He’s going to drop you so fast now that his brother is back. As he should. You are nothing but trouble to anyone.” Bill pulled roughly on the chain around Rick’s neck, igniting a burning pain where the glowing metal touched his skin.  

Rick jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in the bed. His hand flew to his neck, but there were no chains. Just the collar Stan had given him. He rubbed the soft leather mournfully. Looking over at Stan, a thought hit him.  _ Why is this so different than everyone else I’ve been with? Have…have I fallen for him? And what if he gets in too deep? _

Rick wasn’t sure he would know what a healthy relationship looked like if it was dropped on his head. Relationship. This wasn’t a relationship. They had been together all of what…a month? A little more? This whole situation was a disaster. Rick decided to go outside for some fresh air.

Rick went outside and sat on the porch. He was mad. Mad at himself for letting Bill get under his skin, mad at his emotions for making him feel this way, and mad at Fiddleford for not having more moonshine in the fridge. His flask would have to do. Rick patted his pants only to realize that his flask was still in the pocket of the jeans he’d been wearing during the day. Rick let out an audible groan, but then remembered that Stan’s car had one of the bottles of scotch in it still. He meandered around to the front of the shack where the Stanleymobile was parked. Opening the backdoor, he retrieved the bottle and took a long drink. A large shadow passed over the moon…were those bats? If they were, the wings could easily be over ten feet long. Rick squinted at the creatures until they were too far away to see. Rick returned to the front room of the shack, settling into a large recliner.

_ How could someone like Stan like a shitty guy like me? _

Rick drank.

_ All I’m good for is a quick fuck. _

A quarter of the bottle down.

_ He deserves better. _

Another long drink from the bottle.

_ How could I let myself be so careless? _

Rick’s vision swam.

_ What do I do? _

Half empty.

_ I’m an idiot. _

Rick drained more of the bottle, his arm falling to the side of the recliner as his eyes fell shut.

Ford woke up exceedingly early, as usual. His head hurt, though he couldn’t decipher why. On his way down to the lab, Ford passed Rick, who was passed out in the front room. In his right hand was a partially empty scotch bottle. His eyebrows were furrowed in his sleep; he looked uncomfortable. Ford stepped towards him, sliding the bottle from his hand. Rick shifted. Ford kept his eyes on Rick, a look of genuine curiosity on his face. Rick was so much more than he seemed. Though that didn’t make him any less of an arrogant degenerate. Ford put the rest of the scotch in the kitchen. Stanley could deal with that. Ford resumed his journey down to his lab.

A few hours later, when Rick groggily opened his eyes, he could hear Fiddleford and Stanford talking in hushed tones in the kitchen. He stretched out the cramp in his back from sleeping on the couch and stood up. Rick walked into the kitchen, sat down, and rested his forehead against the cool surface of the table.

“You…doing alright there, Rick?” Fiddleford’s voice was heavy with concern.

Rick gave a thumbs up without looking up from the table. He heard a glass clink on the wooden surface; looking up, Rick saw that Fiddleford had placed down a cup of ice water and was giving him a patient smile. Ford looked confused.

Rick took the glass, grateful for the gesture and the understanding that seemed to flow between him and Fiddleford.

“So, Stanford and I will be going out of town for a few days, will you and Stan be able to hold down the fort?” Fiddleford absentmindedly washed the few dishes that had accumulated in the sink.

“Sure.” Rick cleared his throat. “Where you two going?”

Ford spoke up. “We had planned to take a little break from work and go to a music festival.” Ford paused.

“And I insisted that we still go. Stanford’s been working himself into the ground. He could use the rest.” Fiddleford smiled at his companion, who had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. Rick imagined he had the same problem.

“Aw, aren’t you two adorable?” Rick folded his arms on the table, resting his chin on them.

Stanford turned bright red; Fiddleford laughed it off.

“You hungry, Rick?” McGucket offered.

“Not particularly. Th-though do either of you have a spare notebook I could use? I-I been meaning to run some calculations.”

Ford raised an eyebrow quizzically but walked into his study room to retrieve a pad of lined paper. He placed it and a pen in front of Rick, who immediately began to write out long strings of numbers and equations. He became so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice Ford staring over his shoulder, his jaw hanging open. Ford gestured a curious Fiddleford over to watch too. Rick had nearly filled an entire page with his messy handwriting before he realized that the two scientists were observing him.

“Do you mind?” He asked, throwing a hand over his work.

“Rick, that’s incredible! These equations are so detailed! So elegant!” Ford gushed.

Rick looked uncomfortable.

“They’re really somethin’. Though we should get going, shouldn’t we, Stanford?” Fiddleford looped an arm around his friend, pulling him away. When Fiddleford thought Rick couldn’t see them, he planted a kiss on Stanford’s cheek, whose face turned pink. Rick smiled sadly to himself. He scribbled song lyrics in the margins of his paper, then immediately scratched them out.

After Ford and Fidds had packed a few things and left, Stan finally woke up. He came down to the kitchen, still in his boxers and nightshirt.

“Good morning.” He wrapped his arms around Rick’s shoulders, resting his chin on Rick’s head.

“It’s almost afternoon, you slept so long.” His eyes stayed locked on his work.

Stan laughed lightly. “What can I say? Guess I was tired.” Stan poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced over to what Rick was working on. “What you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“About…?”

“Well I don’t know. Maybe if I had some space I could work on it! You probably wouldn’t get it anyway.”

Stan flinched at the comment.

“Okay. Well. I’ll be…around. If you need me.”

Rick just grunted.

Stan came back to the kitchen a few hours later, prompted by his rumbling stomach. Rick had pages of notes covering the table and an empty bottle of scotch lying on the floor. Stan picked up the bottle and threw it away.

“Hey, have you eaten?”

Rick was silent.

“You…want a sandwich?” Stan asked hesitantly, making himself one.

“No.” Rick replied curtly.

“Alright, what is your problem today? You were fine yesterday, but now you’re being an ass.”

“I-I’m just not a huge fan of you breathing down my fucking neck every second of the day.”

“Okay well I’ll be taking my sandwich elsewhere then.”

Rick snorted as Stan left. He furrowed his eyebrows and focused on his work.

Stan sat in the front room, angrily eating his sandwich. He wondered if Rick was mad at him for trying to be affectionate. That was the only thing he could think of. Stan tried to remember when he’d started caring so much.

After the sun went down, Stan couldn’t take being in the house any longer. With his brother and Fiddleford gone (they’d left him a note on the fridge) Rick’s bad attitude was almost unbearable. Having showered and gotten dressed, Stan had nothing better to do than go into town.

As he walked by Rick in the kitchen, he spoke up. “I’m going to see if there’s any good bars in town. I’ll be back later.”

“Great. Maybe now the sound of whatever god-awful TV show you’ve been watching will finally end. And I-I can get some fucking work done.”

“Maybe when I come back, you’ll be less of an asshat.” Stan slammed the door behind him.

“Not likely,” Rick whispered to himself.

Stan returned right as the sun was setting, much earlier than he had anticipated. He’d been kicked out of the bar for cheating at poker. Luckily, no one had started a fight, he’d just been asked to leave. The Stanleymobile had run out of gas about halfway down the dirt road to the shack, so Stan had opted to hike the remainder of the way. He made a mental note to ask Rick to portal to town and fill up a gas canister later. But when Stan arrived at the shack, Rick wasn’t in the kitchen where Stan had left him. When Stan walked upstairs to see if he had gone to bed; he heard guitar playing. Stan peered around the upstairs hallway until he found a set of windows where the sound was the strongest.

Rick strummed softly, the music broken up by him swearing under his breath and restarting the song. He was still working out the melody.

He played the opening chords a few times, tapping a beat with his foot. He seemed pleased with his progress and began quietly singing to himself.

“Tell me pretty lies, look me in the face. Tell me that you love me, even if it’s fake. Cause I don’t fucking care... at all.”

Stan couldn’t quite hear the next lines. He wasn’t sure if Rick really knew what they were either.

“‘Cause I have all these feelings for you. I act like I don’t fucking care, like they ain’t even there. ‘Cause I have all these feelings for you. I act like I don’t fucking care, ‘cause I’m so fucking scared. I'm only a fool for you. And maybe you're too good for me. I'm only a fool for you. But I don't fucking care at all.”

Stan walked away. He wasn’t sure he could take much more. While he could still hear the sounds of Rick’s guitar, his husky voice was inaudible.  _ Was that really how he felt? Had his shitty attitude had all been to hide the fact that he really did care? _ Stan’s heart swelled at the thought. Stan decided that he would have to be the bigger man here, since Rick was clearly emotionally constipated. He made up his mind that he would prove to Rick how much he was worth, as soon as he came back inside. 

Stan ended up falling asleep waiting for Rick.

But when Stan woke up in the morning, the bed was painfully empty beside him. Stan walked around the house, hopeful that Rick had just woken up early. He hadn’t. Rick was nowhere to be found.


	8. Household Conflict

Rick’s bag had disappeared from the attic room, his papers and calculations were gone, and most importantly: the booze was gone. Stan collapsed at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.  _ If I had just gone up to the roof this wouldn’t have happened. Why did I have to be such a coward? Rick might be emotionally stunted, but so am I. _ And with Rick gone, Stan’s car was still stuck on empty. He’d have to hike to town.

_ This sucks _ , Stan thought to himself. Not for the first time in his life, Stan felt truly alone.

Stan put on some pants and began the long walk to town; he didn’t have anything better to do after all. He filled his gas can and stocked up on some cheap beers. He trekked back to Ford’s house. With Rick gone now, would Ford kick Stan out? Stan suspected that Ford had only offered for them to stay because of whatever he and Rick had done. His brother had hardly spoken to him since their sudden reunion. Stan didn’t like being alone, it left him too much time to think. When he got back to the shack, Stan settled into the front room’s recliner, he turned on his brother’s TV. It didn’t look like it got much use. Anything at all was better than sitting in silence.

Half of Stan was hopeful that Rick would come walking through the door, some wild explanation of how he’d been kidnapped by space pirates. The other half of him knew it was impossible.

Rick wasn’t back by sundown.

He didn’t come back the next day either.

Or the day after that.

On the evening of day two, Stan was mad. He was sufficiently wasted and his anger was rising in his throat. _ I’ve given Rick so much of my time and this is how he’s repaid me? Might as well have been kicked in the balls too. Rick is such a selfish bastard. Why did he have to be this way? Who ruined him? _

Stan remembered the last time he’d felt this way: when his family had kicked him out. Ford hadn’t stood up for him then and Stan doubted he would even care what happened to him now. All he cared about was his stupid lab.

After stewing in his thoughts for far too long, Stan finally fell asleep.

Day three of Rick’s absence came with a horrible hangover. Stan couldn’t remember exactly what he had done last night, but he knew he had been mad. Now he just felt sick. He’d woken up on the porch and was now covered in mosquito bites and sweat.

_ I ought to shower, _ Stan thought as he stared down at his stained t-shirt.

Stan spent the day trying to get his life back in order.  _ Two days is enough of a break. If I let every shitty thing that happens get me down, I’d never get anything done. _

Stan cleaned what he could of the house, careful not to touch any of Ford’s inventions. He remembered what had happened  _ last  _ time. When the house looked about as it had when Ford left, Stan settled back into the recliner. He’d become increasingly attached to some old 50’s show about the scandals of very posh women. He related to it in a weird way. During a commercial break, Stan made himself a grilled cheese sandwich.

“Do-di-do grilling me a cheese,” he sang softly to himself. The sound of his own voice made the silence of the house not seem so…haunting. “The key to a perfect grilled cheese is to butter your bread before it goes in the pan.”

He came back just as the show resumed. His grilled cheese was perfect.  _ This is nice,  _ he thought.  _ Got me a sandwich, beer, and the season four finale starts soon!  _ He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

As the ending credits of the show played, Stan heard a soft knock at the door. He shrugged it off. 

_ Probably someone for Ford. And Ford isn’t here. _

The knocking came again, more insistent, followed by a heavy thud against the door.

_ Ugh. _

Stan hauled himself out of the soft cushions of the recliner and headed to the door.

“Hey look buddy-” Stan looked down.

It was Rick. And he was not in good shape. Rick’s face was splattered with blood and his left eye had the dark blue circle of a bruise around it. His eyes were closed, his breaths shallow and uneven.

Stan sighed. “You moron.” He knelt down next to Rick, despite his instincts telling him to let sleeping dogs lie. Rick’s shoulder was bruised and swollen- had he dislocated it?

Stan scooped Rick into his arms gingerly, he smelled like alcohol and sweat. Putting Rick down in one of the kitchen chairs, Stan wetted a towel to clean some of the blood off of Rick’s face. He softly rubbed at his face, trying to discern where any actual wounds were. Rick’s eyes flickered open. His pupils were dilated to an unnatural degree.

_ Great. He’s high too, _ Stan thought.

“Lee?” Rick’s voice was hoarse.

“Yeah, I’ve got you. You fuckass.”

Rick made a soft noise of protest as Stan cleaned blood away from a gash running down the side of his cheek.

“That’s gonna need something on it. Stay put.” Stan jogged upstairs and got the bandages out of his backpack.

Fortunately, Rick hadn’t moved. Stan had also brought an extra one of his shirts; Rick’s was covered in blood and some mysterious green substance.

Stan leaned forward to press the bandage to Rick’s cheek. He squirmed out of the way. Stan firmly grabbed hold of his jaw, staring into his hazy eyes.

“Don’t move. I  _ will  _ dump your ass back outside.”

Rick blinked, looking confused. Stan managed to get the bandage over the cut and handed Rick a glass of water. Stan watched him, arms folded, as he slowly sipped at it. The expression on Rick’s face made it look like he was a child who had gotten in trouble. His eyes stayed downcast, locked on the floor. When he finished the water, his eyes flickered up to Stan.

“How’s your shoulder? Think you can get that shirt off?”

Rick had been holding his arm close to his body, avoiding movement. He winced as he pulled his bloodstained shirt over his head. Stan threw it straight in the trash. He helped Rick slide his injured arm into the clean shirt. He looked marginally better now. He was still eight thousand kinds of fucked up, but at least he wasn’t covered in blood anymore. Rick tried to stand up but immediately almost fell on his face. Stan caught him, scooping him into his arms.

“Noooo,” Rick protested weakly. Stan couldn’t help but notice how light Rick was. Even as tall as he was, Rick couldn’t be more than 140 pounds, soaking wet. Not wanting to climb the stairs, Stan settled into the recliner chair in the front room. He tucked Rick in beside him.

“Lee?”

“Hm?” Stan turned his head towards Rick.

“I-I’m an asshole,” he slurred.

“A little bit. But what else is new?”

“I left. I-I left even though you’re like my favorite person.” Rick leaned his head sadly against Stan’s shoulder.

Stan frowned. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk when you’re sober.” Stan looped an arm around Rick, making sure that if he got up, Stan would know.

Rick woke up to vomit right as the sun rose. He scrambled to the bathroom on still unsteady feet. Stan felt the shift beside him and peeled his eyes open. Blinking, he looked around the room. He heard Rick throwing up and checked his watch. 6:10. Way too early to be up. The sound of Rick’s bare feet padding across tile spurred him to get up and check on the moron. Rick was bent over the kitchen sink, rinsing his mouth out. He pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it. He turned around to face Stan, his injured arm crossed over his stomach. He averted his gaze, afraid to make eye contact.

“How do you feel?”

“Gross.” Stan’s shirt was huge on Rick’s slender frame.

“Hungover?”

“I-I might still be drunk.”

“Hmm.” Stan leaned against the wall.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s oka-” Stan started to say.

“I’m sorry I came back. I…didn’t mean to. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Are you kidding me? For a genius, you sure are a dumbass. I was worried sick about you.” Stan took a step forward, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? I…” Stan swallowed hard. “I care about you.”

“No! I’m bad for you.”

“What in the hell gave you that idea? I drove your skinny ass to Arizona and followed you here to my estranged brother’s house because I wanted to! I’m not saying either one of us is perfect, because we aren’t. But for once in my life I felt like someone understood me.” Stan’s shoulders dropped.

Rick snorted. “D-don’t be getting all emotional on me now.”

“Of course not,” Stan said, scoffing. “Not like when you’re singing and you think no one is listening.”

Rick’s face turned bright red.

Stan shook his head. “Let me see that shoulder.”

Rick allowed Stan to take a look at his shoulder, which was swollen and bruised still.

“Did you dislocate it?” Stan asked, looking for something to make a sling with.

“…I’m not sure. Don’t bother wrapping it or whatever, I’m fine.”

Stan shot him a doubtful look. “At least put some ice on it. And what do you mean, you don’t know? What were you on last night?”

“Fuck if I know.” Rick remembered portalling off planet, meeting Bird Person, and then not much else.

“Jesus. Be more careful, hm?” Stan handed him a bag filled with ice.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Your eye looks pretty bad too.”

“Lee, I’m fine! Y-you don’t have to mother me.”

Stan snorted, smiling a little bit. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you a break.”

Taking sympathy on Rick, Stan sat him down at the table and made some toast to help get some food into his system. Rick took the toast wordlessly, still looking irritated. Stan brewed himself some coffee.

An engine rumbled to a halt outside and Ford and Fiddleford walked through the back door, their faces flush with laughter. Fiddleford’s face abruptly dropped when he saw Rick, his eyes wide. Stanford followed his gaze; Rick gave them a rueful smile.

Ford whipped around to Stan. “What the hell happened? Was this your fault?”

Stan raised his hands defensively. He started to reply but Rick cut him off.

“Lay off him, Ford. I got myself into trouble and paid for it.”

Stan glared angrily at his twin, irritated by Ford’s accusation. Stanford ignored the pointed look, dropped his bag at the foot of the stairs, and headed down to his lab. Fiddleford winced with concern as he got a full view of Rick’s blackened eye.

“You doing all right there, Rick?”

“I’m fine, Fidds. You all worry too much.”

“Have you taken anything? Painkillers?”

Rick gave a soft laugh and looked into Fiddleford’s eyes earnestly. “I’m okay, really.”

Fiddleford gave Rick a patient smile and trotted to the stairs, scooping up Ford’s bag on his way.

“You see that?” Stan said, gazing out the window. “People care about you. Even if you can be a dick sometimes.” Stan walked outside to the porch to light a cigarette. With the kitchen empty, Rick now had time to think.  _ Maybe I was wrong to leave. I don’t think my motivation was wrong…just my reaction. I might be a fuck-up, but these guys have had their share of problems. _

Rick pulled the portal gun from his waistband and fired it into the air. He wasn’t leaving for good this time, just off in search of a better pain remedy than weak Earth medicines.

When Rick came back, feeling better, he curled up on the recliner chair and fell asleep. He suspected it had been a few days since he slept last. 

Stan came inside, having gone on a long walk and relaxed a bit, and saw that Rick was gone. He peeked into the front room and saw his friend laying in the recliner, knees tucked up to his chest. His eye looked less purple, though maybe it was just the softer expression on his face.

Ford walked up the stairs, staring confusedly at the jacket in his hands.

“What you got there, sixer?” Stan asked, hoping Ford hadn’t seen him staring affectionately at Rick.

“Huh?” Ford looked up from his stupor. “Oh, I think I fell asleep on my desk and my nose started bleeding. This dry air we’ve been having is not doing me any favors.” Ford stretched the bloodstained sleeve of his coat to examine it.

“Ew. You should soak that.”

“Thanks Stanley. I’m sure I’m capable of doing laundry on my own.”

Stan rolled his eyes, giving his brother a two fingered salute. He sat down on the floor, resting his head against the arm of the recliner.

Ford scrubbed lightly at the stained fabric with salt water, worried that he might have ruined his favorite jacket. Fiddleford came up behind him, wrapping his long arms around Ford’s waist.

He said nothing, just leaned comfortably into Stanford’s back. Ford’s unease settled at the gentle pressure of Fiddleford’s embrace.  _ I’ve been too distracted,  _ Ford thought _ , I need to get back to work. _

After cleaning most of the blood from his coat, Ford gathered up a few items and hiked off into the woods. He hoped that work would distract him from the discomfort that prickled in the back of his mind. 

With Ford gone, Fiddleford took the opportunity to spread his work across the kitchen table. He cluttered the space with wires and circuitry; tinkering diligently. 

When Rick woke up, a few hours after falling asleep, he saw Stan asleep at his feet. He was sitting upright, leaning against the base of the chair. Rick carefully swung his legs over the arm of the recliner, trying not to wake Stan. He meandered around the house before finally passing Fiddleford and going outside to smoke. 

Stan woke up not long after, blinking sleepily. He sat on the ground for a minute, trying to remember where he was. The crick in his neck reminded him. Standing and stretching, Stan glanced around for Rick. His heart leapt into his throat when he didn’t see him immediately. He poked his head into the kitchen, only to find Fiddleford playing with a complex looking machine. 

“He’s outside,” Fiddleford said without looking up.

“What makes you think I’m looking for Rick? I’m looking for food.”

Fiddleford hummed quietly, raising an eyebrow.

“I boredom eat, okay?” Stan said defensively. 

“Okay, okay, no judgement.” 

Stan rummaged through the fridge, settling on eating some leftover pasta. He didn’t bother heating it, it seemed like too much effort. Instead, Stan wandered around his brother’s house, bowl of cold spaghetti in hand. 

The day passed without much excitement, Rick alternated between smoking, drinking, and chatting with Fiddleford while Stan continued to marathon his soap operas. 

At Stan’s request, Fiddleford supervised and made recommendations while Stan cooked dinner. When it was finished, Rick came wandering back into the kitchen.

“Smells good. What’s dinner?” 

“Stan made meatloaf and mashed potatoes!” Fiddleford exclaimed proudly.

“Ah, not by myself I didn’t,” Stan protested.

“Want some?” the engineer offered, filling a plate for himself. Rick shrugged and piled food onto a dish for himself. He took a bite while Stan watched nervously. 

Rick looked up at Stan. “It’s good.” 

He sauntered off with his plate while Stan sat down with Fidds at the table, grinning. 

Late that night, when he thought Stan wouldn’t notice, Rick crawled into the bed and buried his cold feet in Stan’s legs. 


	9. Cooling Down

As Stan pulled into the driveway from his grocery run, the Stanleymobile’s engine sputtered and died.

“Hey Rick? I think my car shit itself.” Rick opened the back door, squinting at the car.

“Give me a second. I-I need a few more cups of coffee before I can deal with this.”

Stan came back inside, knowing Rick would be a while. He put the grocery bag full of scotch bottles down on the kitchen counter and sat down. Fiddleford looked up from his frying pan and smiled.

“Want some bacon?”

“Fiddleford you are a gift.” Stan sat down at the table next to Rick, returning Fiddleford’s grin. Rick blinked his eyes sleepily. The fading bruise under his eye was accentuated by the bags under his eyes.

Ford entered the kitchen; the dark rings around his eyes matched Rick’s.

“Did I smell bacon?”

“Sure did! You want anything-” Fiddleford dropped off as he turned to look at Ford. “Sweet sarsaparilla! Did you sleep at all?”

Ford scrunched up his face. “I don’t remember falling asleep but I woke up at some point. I’m alright though.”

McGucket gave him a doubtful look as Ford poured himself some coffee.

Rick spoke up. “Won’t help much. Y-you’d have to down two pots of th-this weak shit to really feel anything.”

Ford thought for a moment. “There’s a truck stop just outside of town that sells industrial grade coffee. Maybe I should make a trip out there!” He chuckled lightheartedly. Fiddleford pulled the bacon out of the pan, delicately draping it onto a paper towel. Rick got up, peering around Fiddleford. He reached over to snag a strip of bacon.

“Careful. That’s hot.”

Rick shoved the bacon in his mouth, eyes widening in shock. “Shit!”

“Bet you won’t do that again, huh?” Fiddleford raised an eyebrow at Rick.

“Yeah, yeah I learned my lesson, whatever. I-I’ll take a look at your car, Lee. H-how much am I allowed to fuck with it?”

“As long as it runs then do what you want.” Stan shrugged.

“Nice. Y-you two have any parts laying around that you don’t need?” Rick looked expectantly at the two scientists.

“I’ve got plenty of machine parts. You need any help?” Fiddleford replied.

“Uh, sure. Grab some stuff and meet me outside.”

Fiddleford ran down to the lab to gather up some parts he had stockpiled in the lab. Rick walked out to the Stanleymobile, popping the hood and peering into the crevasses of the engine.

Stan followed Fiddleford outside, plopping himself down on the porch while Fidds delivered the box of parts to Rick.

_ We need a couch or something out here _ , Stan thought, adjusting himself on the hard wooden porch. Fiddleford watched Rick work, chattering excitedly about mechanics and engines. He seemed thrilled to have someone to talk to.

“So I have this pet project that I’ve been working on…”

Rick turned his head and looked at Fiddleford.

“It’s a personal computer that isn’t bound to one spot. But Ford tells me it’ll never catch on.”

“Man! Don’t listen to him. Y-you gotta do what feels right to you. Hell, I’d want one of those.”

Fiddleford’s face lit up. “You think so?”

“Yeah! I-if it makes you happy then fuck what other people think.”

“Thanks, Rick. You’re a real good guy,” Fiddleford said, smiling earnestly.

Rick laughed nervously and dug around in the parts box. He pulled something out and diligently continued working on the engine. After tinkering with the engine for a while, Rick put his hands on his hips and admired his work. Fiddleford bounced excitedly.

“It looks great! Let’s test ‘er out?”

“Yeah. Grab the keys from Lee.”

“Any reason you call him that?” Fiddleford didn’t make a move to get the keys.

Rick shrugged. “Just feels right. Though I guess it works out w-with Ford and all.” He paused, glancing off into the woods. “The fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Fiddleford asked, looking worried.

A huge, gorilla like beast came lumbering out of the forest, red eyes searching the landscape. Fiddleford looked like he was about to have a heart attack. Stan stood, clenching his fists, careful not to make any loud noises. Rick softly padded to the passenger side door. The crunching of his feet against the gravel drew the monster’s attention. As its head whipped around, the beast roared, saliva flying from its fanged mouth. Fiddleford screamed in response, dropping to the floor and throwing his arms over his head. The monster charged and Rick quickly darted his hand inside the car, pulling Stan’s crowbar from under the car seat. Stan launched himself towards Rick, who was luring the monster away from Fiddleford. Rick chucked the crowbar onto the ground and sprinted towards the woods.

Stan, scooping up the metal bar, followed the monster that pursued Rick. As Rick reached the tree line, he hauled himself into some low hanging branches, giving Stan a chance to catch up to the monster. As it clawed at the tree, Rick got a good look at the beast. Its hairy shoulders had mushrooms growing out of them and its underbite was lined with sharp teeth.

As the monster’s claws reached closer and closer to Rick’s perch, Stan used his momentum to drive his crowbar, full force, into the back of the monster’s leg. It roared in pain, spinning to face its assailant. Rick dropped from the tree, landing cleanly on the back of the creature’s neck. He tore at the bat-like ears while Stan wound up for another hit. He whipped the crowbar around his body, connecting with such force that a pointed tooth shattered and fell from the monster’s mouth. It screeched in pain, rearing up and tossing Rick off. It scampered back into the woods, gone as quickly as it had come. Stan walked over to Rick, who was lying flat on his back. He offered a hand up. Rick interlocked his had with Stan’s, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

The two of them turned to see a startled Ford watching from the porch.

“Shit!” Rick exclaimed, dropping Stan’s hand. “Fidds!”

Rick and Ford both ran to Fiddleford, who was crouched in the dirt by the car with his hands in his hair, trembling. Ford reached out a hand to comfort Fiddleford, but he scooted away in panic, eyes wide with fear. Stanford looked hurt.

“Lee! Grab your brother and take him inside.”

Stan trotted over to the trio and gently looped his arm around Ford’s shoulder. Stanford glanced back worriedly as Rick sat down on the ground in front of Fiddleford.

“Hey. Breathe. Breathe in for a count of five, hold for three, then exhale for seven. Count out loud.”

Fiddleford counted to himself, his voice shaky. Rick let him do four cycles of breaths before he tentatively reached out a hand.

“Is it okay for me to touch you?”

Fiddleford nodded wordlessly.

Rick reached out and softly pulled Fiddleford’s hands from his hair. He held his wrists with long fingers. Fiddleford continued counting. After another seven repetitions of the cycle, he finally looked up at Rick.

“Where’s the memory gun? I-I-I know you had it.”

“It’s gone. You don’t need it.”

His eyes widened again. “You what?! You don’t understand, Rick!”

“Fiddleford. I do. I’ve…seen some things. I get it.”

“But Rick, I-”

Rick cut him off. “I-I know it can seem easier to forget what happened and hide from it, but it won’t get you anywhere.” A sad look passed through Rick’s eyes. “Y-y-you have to focus on bettering yourself. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

“But…I’m so  _ afraid _ .” Fiddleford’s eyes dropped to the dirt.

“I know. But y-you can’t let fear rule over you.” Rick’s voice lowered. “Love should come first.”

Fiddleford’s hands had stopped shaking. He looked better.

“And what about you? What  _ really _ happened to your eye?”

“I-I let my fear take over. Please d-don’t make the mistakes I made. You’ve already forgotten Ford once. Plus, I’m not sure where that idiot would be without you.”

“Rick, I remember feelings of my time here. It’s such a violent mix of emotions.”

“But love was what stood out the most.”

Fiddleford looked up at Rick, squinting through his round glasses. “You were listening in on Stanford and I, weren't you?”

Rick smiled lopsidedly. “Not on purpose.”

Fiddleford counted his breaths again. After four cycles, the color had started to return to his face. 

“Clench your fist, count to five, then release it,” Rick instructed, dropping Fiddleford’s wrists finally. Fiddleford followed the instructions, repeating the action a few times. The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away. 

He took one last deep breath. “Okay. I think I feel alright to go inside.”

“Take your time.”

Fiddleford stood up, offering a hand to Rick. When he pulled him up, Fiddleford brought Rick into a hug. Rick tensed up at first but tentatively put his arms around Fiddleford’s slim shoulders.

Ford paced nervously in the kitchen while Stan leaned against the table, his eyes following his brother.

“You, uh, doing alright there?” Stan asked finally.

Ford shook his head, returning himself to reality. “Oh, um. Yeah.”

“You…really care about him, huh?”

“I respect him. He is a brilliant man and I just…” Ford stared out the window. Rick was sitting cross legged, Fiddleford’s wrists in his hands.

Stan noticed a slight blush rising to Stanford’s face. “Wait. You have a thing for him, don’t you?”

“I--what—well,” Ford stammered.

Stan smiled slyly. “You totally do.”

“None of your business, Stanley!”

Stan rolled his eyes.  _ He’s got it bad,  _ he thought.  _ Guess we have a little more in common than I thought.  _ Stan glanced out the window at Rick.

“I just feel so bad,” Ford said, more to himself than to Stan. “I was so awful to him.”

“Just make up for it now. Can’t change the past, so make the present what you want it to be.” Stan glanced at his twin, frowning. Ford either didn’t acknowledge the dual meaning of Stan’s statement, or didn’t see it. 

“Yeah,” Ford said simply.

Outside, Fiddleford pulled Rick into a hug before the two walked back towards the house. Ford hastily fumbled around the kitchen, attempting to make himself look busy.

“I’ll be in the workshop if you need me,” Fiddleford said to Rick, smiling.

Rick just patted him on the shoulder and returned the grin. Ford watched Fiddleford out of the corner of his eye. Rick walked to the table, standing next to Stan. He leaned into Stan, resting his chin on a broad shoulder. Stan turned his head to look at Rick, who was staring straight ahead. It was the first time Rick had willingly been this close since he got back. Stan looped an arm around Rick’s narrow hips.

Ford turned around, concerned by the silence. His eyes widened. “Um, I’ve got some work to do so, uh, see you later.”

Stan chuckled to himself, giving Rick a squeeze.

“You doing okay?” Stan asked.

Rick grunted softly.

“You want to say anything?”

Another grunt.

“Does that mean you’re sorry?” Stan grinned while Rick scowled at him. “I bet you’d apologize for makeup sex.”

Rick’s eyes lightened.

“So what do you say?”

“Sorry,” Rick grumbled under his breath.

Stan laughed gently. “Apology accepted, you shit.” Stan could feel that he meant it, Rick wouldn’t have snuggled up next to him if he wasn’t trying to make amends.  _ He’s trying at least, even if he can’t say it out loud. That must’ve been some talk with Fidds,  _ Stan thought.

Turning Rick towards him, Stan pulled him closer and pressed their lips together. Rick tangled his thin fingers through Stan’s hair.

Stan broke away for a moment. “You want to take this upstairs?”

“Y-you don’t want to do me on the table?”

Stan rolled his eyes and took Rick’s hand in his. Rick in tow, Stan walked up the stairs. Rick closed the door behind them. Stan picked Rick up, pressing his back against the door. He grazed his teeth across the skin above Rick’s collar. He reached up to toy with the silver D-ring. 

“I can’t believe you are still wearing this thing.”

“I-it looks too good on me to stop now.”

_ It does look good on me,  _ Rick thought.  _ That fucking Charlie Chaplin dorito isn’t going to hold me prisoner anymore. He won’t get inside my head again.  _

“Uh huh,” Stan said with a sly grin. 

Stan sucked a bruise onto the crook of Rick’s neck. Rick rocked his hips into Stan, using the door as leverage. Stan groaned and grinded into him. Rick leaned forward and nipped at Stan’s ear lobe, his arms wrapping around Stan’s neck. 

Rick wriggled out of Stan’s grasp, dropping his feet to the floor. His long fingers deftly unbuttoned Stan’s pants, shoving them to the floor. Stan pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his pants as Rick palmed his clothed erection through his boxers. Stan braced an arm against the door as Rick dropped to his knees. He tugged down the front of Stan’s boxers, freeing his cock. He slowly dragged his tongue over the head, sending shivers up Stan’s spine. Rick licked up and down Stan’s shaft, one hand caressing his balls, before taking Stan into his mouth, bobbing his head and half closing his eyes. 

Stan leaned his weight into the door, propping himself up with his forearms. Rick leaned back for a moment, sliding his tongue over his fingers. Rick stroked with his left hand while Stan watched him. When he brought his mouth back to Stan’s cock, Rick allowed his hand to creep up the leg of Stan’s boxers. 

Stan’s eyes widened slightly as Rick’s fingers drew close to a sensitive spot. He momentarily forgot about Rick’s hand as he took in all of Stan’s dick, the head hitting the back of Rick’s throat. Rick continued dutifully sucking while his finger massaged Stan’s entrance. He slipped his finger into Stan, eliciting a small gasp.

Rick freed his mouth briefly. “Oh come on. It’s just one finger.”

Stan just grumbled softly and wound his hands in Rick’s hair. Rick got the message and returned to Stan’s cock. He pumped his middle finger in and out of Stan’s ass while he bobbed his head. Stan’s legs shook and he let out a soft whine as Rick added another finger. Rick almost laughed at the noise he made.

_ Who knew such a big guy would be this much of a baby,  _ Rick thought to himself.

Rick let Stan’s cock fall from his mouth. “You wanna try something new?” he asked slyly.

“Wh-what kind of new?” Stan stuttered as Rick’s fingers pressed against just the right place.

“Well you know…y-you could bottom if you wanted to.”

Stan’s breath shuddered as Rick continued to pump his fingers in and out.

“You’ll be gentle?”

Rick’s eyes lit up. “Of course.” Rick stood up and started to move towards the bed, but Stan grabbed his wrist.

“You’re still dressed, dumbass. Come here.” Stan backed against the wall, pulling Rick up against him. He slowly slid his fingertips under Rick’s shirt, the light touch sending shivers through Rick’s body. Stan pushed the shirt over Rick’s head and it fell to the floor. Rick latched himself to Stan’s neck, kissing and biting excitedly. Stan roughly palmed Rick’s ass, pulling him closer. He slipped his hand in between them, thick fingers fumbling with the button on Rick’s jeans.

When the button finally popped open, Stan hastily yanked the zipper down and pushed Rick’s pants and underwear to the floor. Rick moved his hips slightly away and lined himself up with Stan, wrapping his fingers around both of their cocks. He stroked them together, leaning forward and nipping at Stan’s earlobe. He sucked bruises along Stan’s jawline. Stan bit his lip and groaned.

“Let’s take this party to bed?” Rick asked, his face buried in Stan’s neck.

“Mmf, yeah,” Stan panted.

“How do you want to do this?”

Stan sat down on the bed, looking up at Rick. “I’m not sure. You can take the lead but uh, take it slow I guess?”

“Of course,” Rick replied. Stan sat, knees together and his face bright red.

_ God, this is kind of adorable,  _ Rick thought to himself. He braced a hand near Stan’s hip. Leaning down to kiss him, Stan cupped his large hands around Rick’s face, bringing him into the kiss. Rick dug his fingertips into Stan’s hip as a hand trailed down from Rick’s face to his cock. Rick moaned softly into Stan’s mouth.

He broke away. “Lean over the edge of the bed, ok?”

Stan nodded. He stood up and bent over, bracing his arms on the bed. Rick rifled through the nightstand drawer, locating the lube. He spread some on his fingers while Stan watched out of the corner of his eye.

“If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” Rick said.

“No, I—I want to. It feels good.” The red hue of Stan’s face darkened. Rick grinned and pressed a finger into Stan. He sucked in a sharp breath as Rick worked the finger inside him. And then another. Rick gripped Stan’s ass, spreading him out. Stan jerked as Rick pumped his fingers in a different direction. He stifled a moan. Rick smiled devilishly.

“Was that good? Sh-should I give you more?” He taunted.

“Ah, yeah you can—ugh—go farther.”

Rick pulled his fingers out and Stan almost whined at the loss. Rick coated his cock in lubricant and admired Stan’s body. His broad shoulders boasted muscles that were shaking in anticipation. Rick slid his fingers into Stan one last time, ensuring that he would be okay. When Stan rocked his hips back, practically begging for more, Rick allowed one more finger to enter him. Stan clenched his jaw, balling the sheets in his fists. Once Rick felt he had prepared Stan enough, he took his dick in his hand and pressed just the tip against Stan.

“Doing okay?” Rick asked.

“Y-yeah, keep going.”

Rick pushed the head of his cock into Stan, moving slowly to acclimate Stan to the feeling.

_ It’s a good thing I’m not as thick as he is,  _ Rick observed. Rick finally had inched the entirety of his shaft inside Stan, who was breathing heavily. Rick braced a hand on Stan’s lower back, thrusting slowly, experimentally.

“Oh god, Rick,” Stan whimpered.

“You like that?”

“Ah—yes, I love it.”

Rick continued at an agonizingly slow pace, taking his time with each movement. Stan eagerly pushed back on Rick, groaning quietly and trying to encourage Rick to give him more. Rick kept his steady rhythm, teasing his partner. 

“Yes Stan? Is there something you'd like to say?” Feigned innocence practically dripped from Rick's voice. 

“You can...go faster. If you want.” Stan huffed.

“If you say so.” Rick smiled.

With a more forceful thrust, Rick picked up speed. Stan’s breathing became shallow, sweat beading on his forehead.

Rick adjusted his hips, looking for just the right angle.

Stan gasped, pushing his hips back against Rick.

_ Found it. _

Rick continued to rock into Stan, who was stifling groans.

Stan peered over his shoulder. “Rick. Please. I need you to touch my cock.”

Rick hunched over Stan’s back, obliging his request.

“Fuck,” Stan muttered, his head falling. Rick could feel himself starting to unravel, he wouldn’t last much longer.

Rick saw Stan’s shoulders tense, his breath stuttered. Rick gave a rough thrust into Stan as his muscles tightened and he came. Rick managed a few more thrusts before falling apart after Stan.

Rick pulled himself out of Stan, his legs trembling slightly. He scooped a towel off the floor, cleaning himself off a little before passing it to Stan. He managed to pull himself into a standing position, wiping between his legs. Stan tossed the towel back on the ground, then promptly collapsed back on the bed. He held an arm up in the air, inviting Rick to come lay next to him. Rick crawled into the bed with Stan, his rapidly cooling body fitting comfortably against Stan.

“So, what did you think?” Rick asked, his voice husky.

“I think I’ve been missing out on something.” He kissed the top of Rick’s head. “Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Of course.” Rick burrowed himself closer to Stan. 


	10. Hellbent

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Rick’s eyes flickered open. He blinked a few times, confused.

_ Did I really sleep this long? The sun wasn’t even down when I fell asleep.  _ With a start, Rick realized that he had slept peacefully. No nightmares.  _ Suspicious,  _ he thought. Rick glanced over at Stan, who was still snoring peacefully. Rick settled back down into the blankets, intending to sleep some more.

Rick heard a low hum and the house rumbled. He sat upright.

“Did you hear that?” Rick asked, wide awake.

Stan snorted.

Rick slapped at him with the back of his hand. “Lee! Did you hear that weird noise?”

“The only noise I hear is your mouth,” Stan replied sleepily.

“I’m gonna go take a look around.”

Stan hummed quietly in affirmation as Rick hauled himself out of bed. He had almost made it to the door when a slight draft reminded him that he was naked. Rick pulled on a pair of underwear, then some sweatpants. He scooped a shirt of the floor (which happened to be Stan’s) and tugged it on, heading down the stairs. Pausing at the basement door, Rick listened carefully. Soft sounds of metal scraping against metal emanated from the lab.

_ Ford must have gotten an early start. Does that nerd ever sleep? _

Rick crossed the front room and peered into the kitchen. No coffee.

_ Damn. Better go check on that freak if he’s up this early without coffee. _

Rick padded carefully down the stone stairs, trying not to lose his footing. Scraping metal and mechanical whirrs grew louder as Rick approached the basement.

Crouched near the control panel of the portal, was Ford.

“Yo shithead. You doing okay?”

Ford didn’t look up. The welder’s mask that was flipped over his face reflected glowing lights from within the machine’s wiring.

“Ford. Hey.”

Ford paused for a moment. He flipped his mask up without turning around, indicating that he was listening.

“You alright? Looks like you’re burning the candle at both ends.”

Ford stood up and flipped a few switches on the control panel. The portal sparked to life.

“Dude! What the fuck are you doing?”

Ford chuckled, reaching up and wiping sweat off his cheek. His hand came away bloodstained.

Rick took a step backwards, a hand raised defensively.

“Couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Ford’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Always have to be a thorn in my side!” Ford's head spun towards Rick.

His eyes glowed golden, his pupils narrowed into vertical slits. Ford—Bill—smiled widely, psychotically. Blood trickled from Stanford’s right eye, spilling down his cheek.

Rick froze, Ford’s body took a step forward. Rick’s eyes darted to the portal which flickered and gurgled with energy.

_ I need to get to that portal. There’s gotta be a kill switch. _

“You were gone! But then you came back to ruin everything. Couldn’t just be a coward, could you?” Ford’s voice echoed with the high tinny pitch of Bill’s; he continued slowly advancing on Rick.

“So that’s it then? Ford was dumb enough to trust you?”

Bill laughed. “He was so desperate for praise and attention, it was easy. And no matter what you do to this portal, I’ll have unfettered access to his body.”

Bill stood a few feet from Rick, grinning. He extended his hands, palms up, daring Rick to make a move. When Rick didn’t budge, Bill took another step forward. Rick launched himself around Bill, making a move for the control panel. Ford’s hand darted out, wrapping six fingers around Rick’s wrist with superhuman strength.

“NICE TRY. GOTTA BE FASTER NEXT TIME.” Bill whipped Ford’s body around, using his momentum to hurl Rick across the room. His back slammed into a wall of metal machines.

_ Holy shit he’s strong. I don’t think I can overpower him.  _ Rick started desperately looking for a weapon.

Bill stared at Rick, challenging him to make a move. Rick pulled a strip of paneling off the machine he’d been thrown against, holding it like a baseball bat.

He dashed towards Bill, arms raised, ready to attack. Ford’s hand, piloted by Bill, shot out and grabbed Rick by the neck. Rick dropped the scrap metal as his own hands flew to his throat, trying to pry Bill away.

“Such fragile beings you all are.” Bill tightened his grip; Rick let out a whine. Bill launched Rick across the room again, sending him crashing into a wall of radars and buttons. The metal crumpled behind Rick and papers fluttered down around him. He sat in the pile of ruined machines, tasting blood in his mouth. The wiring underneath him sparked and smoked.

_ Smoke. I can set off the fire alarm!  _ Rick pulled himself to his feet. He scooped a few of the papers up, holding them to the sparks. The papers quickly ignited; Rick tossed them to the floor with the others.

_ Hopefully someone has a fire extinguisher or I’ll torch this whole place. _

Bill watched, amused. “Interesting move, Sanchez. Burn the lab down with both of us inside.” The portal whirred and gravity slipped for a moment. Rick and Ford floated in the air before crashing to the ground again. Bill caught himself, Rick did not. He propped himself up on one knee, looking up at a smug Bill.

“Give it up, Sanchez. This dimension is mine, just like yours.”

“No! I won’t let you do this again.” Rick stood up. The fire alarms began to blare.  _ Good. _

Rick picked up another hunk of scrap metal, hurling it at Bill instead of getting within striking range. Bill dodged it, looking bored. He raised Ford’s eyebrow, enticing Rick to try again. Rick continued to launch anything he could get his hands on, time was running out before the portal opened fully.

“Stanford? You need any help down there?” Fiddleford called down from the top of the stairs.

Bill cleared his throat, responding in Stanford’s voice. “I’m fine!”

Rick threw another piece of paneling, catching Ford in the face.

“Fiddleford! Get Stan! Now!” Rick cried out.

Bill laughed and lunged for Rick, who rolled out of the way.

“Pain is hilarious! Keep trying! I mean it!” Blood began to leak from the cut on Ford’s face.

Rick sprinted out of the tiny control room into the room with the portal. He needed more room to maneuver. Ford was stronger but Rick was faster. Bill sauntered after him, the paper blaze flickering out in the control room behind him. As he entered the portal room, his hands resting on his hips, Rick pounced on him, jumping on Ford’s back and wrapping his arms around his throat. Bill clawed at Rick’s hold, which only prompted him to tighten his grip. Ford let out a strangled noise; footsteps echoed down the stairs. Ford backpedaled, crushing Rick into the wall.

“Rick!” Stan called out, appearing in the doorway with a panicked Fiddleford in tow. Rick jerked his arms into Ford’s windpipe, whose clawing hands grew weaker. With a last burst of strength, Bill used Ford’s hands to slam Rick into the concrete again, his head cracking painfully against the stone. He lost his grip, sliding off of Ford.

Bill stumbled away, rubbing his throat.

“Nice one,” Bill croaked.

“Rick, what’s going on here?” Stan and Fiddleford peered into the portal room.

“Ford’s been possessed! I don’t know what to do!” Stanford’s fist connected with Rick’s cheek. He grabbed him by the shirt, tossing him on the ground and crouching over him.

“I WILL NOT LET YOU RUIN A THIRTY YEAR PLAN, YOU WORTHLESS MEAT SACK.” He slammed a fist into Rick’s face again. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT TOOK TO BREAK THAT STUPID MACHINE AND SEND SIXER CAREENING INTO MADNESS.”

Another blow to Rick’s face, which was more bruises than skin.

Stan sprinted at Bill, tackling his brother head on. Stan sent the two of them careening to the floor. He managed to pull himself up, then wrapped his arms around Ford in a headlock. 

Bill locked Ford’s slitted, golden eyes on Fiddleford. Fiddleford stiffened, panic rising in his throat. He recognized those cruel eyes. 

Rick struggled to sit up, pointing urgently at the portal. “Fiddleford! Shut this thing down!”

“Uh, right!” Fiddleford unfroze and scrambled around, flicking a few switches to reveal a panel with three keys. He began to sprint towards the keys.

The portal shuddered; gravity ceased to be for a moment. Stan dropped Ford in surprise, who grinned evilly. Fiddleford flailed desperately in the air. Ford’s hand grabbed Stan’s ankle, and held on to keep him from floating too far. Gravity resumed, sending everyone careening to the floor. Bill used his falling speed to slam Stan’s back into the ground. Fiddleford flopped helplessly to the floor. Rick picked himself up, groaning. He limped over to the keys while Stan struggled to keep Bill from getting to Rick. Fiddleford followed Rick to the key panel.

“Rick! We have to turn the keys ninety degrees clockwise at the same time!” He yelled.

“DON’T TOUCH THOSE,” Bill screamed, struggling against Stan’s grasp. He shoved a hand into Stan’s face and strained to reach Fiddleford and Rick.

Fiddleford caught up to Rick. “Three…two…one!” They turned the keys in unison, Fiddleford turning two simultaneously. The kill button sprang open near the opening of the portal. The machine began to shake more urgently, crackling with power.

“NO,” Bill screamed, breaking free of Stan’s grasp. He dashed towards Rick, tackling him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around Rick’s throat, determined. Stan scooped a rock off the ground, running toward Bill. Fiddleford skirted around the room, moving towards the button.

“I WILL NOT LET YOU RUIN THIS,” Bill screamed, shaking Rick.

Stan winced, bringing the rock down on his brother’s head. Ford collapsed as Fiddleford slammed his hand down on the button. The portal grinded to a halt, the silence deafening. Ford and Rick lay unmoving in the dirt. 

“Rick!” Stan called out, kneeling down in the dirt near his friend. He tentatively reached out a hand, searching for a pulse. Rick batted his hand away weakly. 

“I’m fine,” he groaned, sitting up. 

Fiddleford worriedly ran to Stanford, cradling his head in his arms.

“Is…he going to be okay?” Fiddleford asked, staring down at Stanford’s bruised face.

“I-I’m not sure,” Rick wheezed. He rubbed his throat. “But we need to fully dismantle this thing…eventually.”

Stan sat down next to Rick, putting a hand on his knee. Rick let out a sigh of relief.

“What do you think…um…that thing meant by ‘his thirty-year plan’? He mentioned breaking something,” Stan said quietly.

Fiddleford dabbed at the blood on Stanford’s face with a sleeve. His eye was no longer bleeding but the blood was beginning to dry.

“I’m not sure,” Rick said to Stan.

Ford began to stir. He groaned softly and shifted in Fiddleford’s arms. Rick’s body stiffened, apprehensive. Stanford’s eyes flickered open. His pupils were round and his irises were white. He was bloodied and bruised, but normal.

“Stanford! Are you okay?” Fiddleford asked, gently gripping his shoulder to keep him from moving.

“Bill…took me over while I was sleeping. I think he’s been doing it for days and I just thought I was having guilt fueled nightmares.”

“It’s over now. Don’t worry,” Rick said reassuringly.

Ford looked up at his brother. “I heard what Bill said. I saw everything. I’m so sorry.”

Ford sat up, wrapping his arms around his brother.

“Wait, what?” Stan hugged Ford, happy, if not confused.

“He’d been building to this moment my whole life.  _ He _ broke my machine in high school. I should have listened to you.” Stanford’s voice caught in his throat. “I’ve been nothing but his puppet this whole time.”

“It’s okay, Ford. We’re here now, which is what’s important.”

Ford broke away, swiping at his eyes underneath his glasses. He leaned back into Fiddleford.

“I’m sorry to you too, Fiddleford. I should have listened to you.”

Fiddleford rested a hand against Ford’s face affectionately. “We’re together now. And we will be okay.”

“Hate to break up this love fest,” Rick interjected, “But can we get out of here? It’s creeping me out.”

Stan smiled. “Yeah. Let’s get out of this room.” He stood, offering a hand to Rick. Stan pulled Rick to his feet and helped Fiddleford with Stanford. The four men walked up the stairs and settled down in the kitchen.

“Stanford. I think Stanley and I need a little bit of an explanation about whatever was possessing you. What  _ is  _ that?” Fiddleford set glasses of water in front of Rick and Ford.

Ford took a deep breath. “Bill is an extra-dimensional being who resides in the mindscape. He was the one who told me to build the portal to further my research. I was a fool and made a deal with him.”

“He got me too,” Rick added softly. “This isn’t my original dimension. I bailed on mine when he took over.”

Stan stared at Rick, startled. He put an arm around Rick, unsure of what else to do.

Rick looked up at Ford. “We need a way to keep him out of your head. Can’t take back a deal.”

Ford thought for a second, taking a sip of his water. “Do you suppose a metal plate would stop him? Most mind control can’t permeate metal.”

“Maybe. Though this planet definitely doesn’t have the technology to pull off a risky operation like that. I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows of somewhere that could help. Until then we should keep a close eye on you when you’re asleep.”

Ford nodded solemnly; Fiddleford settled in next to him, their legs brushing against each other. Rick heaved a sigh of relief, resting his head on Stan.

“What…do we do now?” Stan asked.

“I-I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to do anything.”

Ford nodded in agreement. He leaned into Fiddleford, closing his eyes.

After nearly falling asleep on Fiddleford’s shoulder, Stan and Fiddleford finally coaxed Ford into going to bed, despite his anxiety about it. He protested the whole way up the stairs that he didn’t need to sleep and “this is why coffee was invented, Stan!” before they got him to lay down on the bed.

“What if Bill possesses me while I sleep again?” Ford whined.

“Why don’t we just tie you down?” Rick suggested. Ford couldn’t think of a reason why not.

Begrudgingly, Ford allowed them to bind his hands to the bedposts. He—of course—insisted on wearing his sweater and pants, but conceded to not wear his filthy and bloodstained coat.

“I’ll stay with him,” Fidds stated softly. Rick and Stan shrugged before leaving for their own bedroom, hands linked.

Fiddleford turned to Stanford and sat on the edge of the bed.

Ford looked at him almost pleadingly. “It’s not as if I’m going to be able to sleep like this anyway.”

“I know,” Fidds leaned down over Ford, slowly. He whispered, “You don’t have to sleep,” before kissing him softly.

Ford stiffened in shock before melting into Fiddleford’s lips. When they broke apart, Ford breathed reverently, “Fiddleford…” Ford startled himself with the husky tone in his voice; Fidds sat up. “I…I’ve n-never…not with…” His bound hands gestured vaguely to what his mouth was too ashamed to say.

Fiddleford just smiled softly down at him before leaning in again. “It’s okay, Stanford. It’s an experiment.”

Ford just nodded, eyes wide as Fiddleford kissed him again. 

 

Once in their own room, Stan and Rick flopped on the bed with a heavy sigh.

“You think it’s okay to leave them alone?” Stan asked, rolling over on his side to look at Rick. 

Rick scoffed. “They’re adults, I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Rick copied Stan’s posture. 

Stan nodded silently, his eyes trained on Rick’s face. Stan lifted a hand up, gingerly brushing his thumb along Rick’s bruised face. 

“Does this hurt?” He asked quietly. Rick shook his head; Stan’s rough fingers ran tenderly across Rick’s cheek. 

Rick closed his eyes and leaned into Stan’s hand. Stan let fingertips trail down Rick’s face, past his shoulder, and to his waist. He pulled Rick in close, tucking him under his chin. 

“I-I don’t know what I’m gonna do next Lee,” Rick whispered into Stan’s chest. “But I-I know y-y-you’ve got my back.”

Stan hugged Rick tighter. “Rick and Lee forever, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. Thanks for sticking with me all the way through this crazy thing! I want to give a huge shoutout and a million thank yous to my wonderful beta, trenchcoatonatardis. She is absolutely fantastic and you should all go read her fics!


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